Domestic Bliss Must Suit You
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: A fluff filled multi-chapter telling of Sherlolly's (mostly) domestic life together. I do not own the characters (I wish) as they belong to Sir ACD & Moftiss/BBC.
1. Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:** prompted by penaltywaltz on tumblr: 'your breakfast is getting cold.'

* * *

It was Sunday morning and Molly Hooper was cooking a nice English breakfast for her and Sherlock. She had only been living at 221B for a week and she wanted to do something special for her love. As she put their plates of food together, Molly called out for him but there was no answer. Figuring he was still asleep, she stepped into the bedroom to find Sherlock typing on his phone a million words a minute (or so it seemed).

"Sherlock?" Molly spoke softly.

"Hold on, Molly," Sherlock muttered as he continued to flutter his fingers across the phone's keyboard. She waited a few minutes, curious as to what he was on about.

With a sigh, Molly piped up, "Sherlock, your breakfast is getting cold." He turned his head to her with a look of confusion.

"Breakfast?" he questioned, his eyes a myriad of shades of blue and green.

"Yes, breakfast. I made us up plates. I know you don't always take care of yourself the way you should and I just wanted to do something nice for you," Molly explained, still a bit shy at the prospect of actually living with Sherlock. He stood up from the bed and walked over to her slowly. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her, cellphone still in hand, and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. He then proceeded to place another against her temple.

"Thank you, Molly," he told her with gratitude. They both sat down to eat the full breakfast she had cooked and Sherlock was telling her about the cases he was solving prior to her offer of breakfast. There was a point in which they sat in companionable silence, allowing their fleeting glances at one another to do the talking. Sherlock and Molly could communicate much more effectively with their eyes; hers a soft brown, his a sea green and Molly swore she could drown in his ever-changing irises.

"Oh, look at this, it's practically a nine!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"After breakfast, love," Molly teased.


	2. Reassurance

"Molly," Sherlock whispered to the sleeping form curled up to him. He nudged her gently. "Darling, I need to get up."

"Mm, just a little while longer," Molly groaned in her sleep. Sherlock conceded and wrapped his arm around her a little tighter. Her response was positive as she nuzzled her small nose against his neck before placing a soft kiss there. Sherlock pressed a kiss into her mussed hair as they spent a few more moments cuddled together.

* * *

When Molly was fully awake, she looked up into her love's eyes wondering what he was thinking about.

"Did you sleep okay last night?" she asked with concern. Sometimes he still had nightmares concerning the loss of her and a coffin.

"Hm? Oh, yes, I slept fine," Sherlock answered nonchalantly.

"Sherlock," Molly spoke softly, "I know when you're not telling me the truth. Was it the nightmare again?" Sherlock sighed in defeat.

"Yes, but don't worry, it wasn't as intense as the others," he assured her. "It was similar but you weren't dead in this one."

"Then what was it? You can tell me," Molly encouraged, holding him a little closer.

"You left," Sherlock struggled out, his voice breaking on the latter word. Molly waited for him to continue. "You left because I finally drove you away and you realized I was not worthy of your love." His eyes pooled with tears that never fell, turning his irises into a crystalline blue.

"Shh, it's okay," Molly reassured him. "I'm right here and I'm never going anywhere. Please don't ever think you're unworthy of love. You deserve every bit that I give you and then some." She carded her fingers through his unruly onyx curls as she spoke. This effectively calmed Sherlock down as he leaned into her soft touch. She peppered his face with tender kisses; his forehead, temple, cheeks, jaw and lastly, on the lips to which he responded.

"I love you, Molly Hooper," Sherlock mumbled out between kisses.

"I love you too, William Sherlock Scott Holmes," Molly smiled against his lips.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm really happy with how this chapter turned out! Any thoughts?


	3. An Expression of Love

When Molly came home from the hospital, she looked to see if Sherlock was back from the exciting new case he was given. With no sign of him, she took it upon herself to change into something more comfortable, throwing her work clothes in the hamper. Digging through her small collection of pajamas, Molly pulled out a pair of sweatpants but decided against it. She turned her head slightly only to find the perfect choice lying on the bed, so Molly slipped it on as she went to make something for dinner.

* * *

Sherlock came home with a newfound energy as he saw the scene unfolded before him.

"What are you smiling about?" Molly asked as she continued to make the shepherd's pie. "That good of a case?"

"Oh, well, yes, the case was quite interesting; practically an eight. Is that my shirt?" Sherlock questioned, taking in the sight of Molly wearing his aubergine dress shirt as a nightie.

"Sorry, I hope you don't mind. It's just so much more comfortable than what I have," Molly replied with a blush tinting her cheeks. Sherlock went into what John called 'buffering mode' and it caused Molly's brows to furrow with worry. She walked towards him to make sure he was alright. "Sherlock?" It took a couple of minutes before he snapped out of it.

"No, I don't mind, sorry, I thought I was speaking aloud," Sherlock suddenly responded. She gave him a small smile as she squeezed his hand gently before returning to the dinner being made.

"Are you eating tonight? If not, I can just store some in Tupperware for you," Molly offered as she scooped some onto her own plate.

"Not tonight, no," Sherlock answered as he picked up his violin. "Thank you." Molly sat down on the sofa with her plate and Sherlock began to play Bach's Violin Sonata No. 1 in G minor. Oh, how she loved to hear him play, whether it be the classics or something he composed himself, she loved it all the same. Once finished with the first piece of music, Sherlock went on to play a composition of his own that hadn't been quite finished yet. He was inspired to finish it tonight.

It was a piece he was composing for Molly and seeing her eyes all aglow that night caused him to be able to put the finishing touches on it. He began to play it and stole glances at her to see her reaction.

Molly's face softened at the many feelings conveyed in the composition. She could swear that with each note, he was telling her how he loved her. It wasn't until the moment he locked eyes with her, full of emotion, that a single tear slipped down her cheek. Her heart felt full and butterflies invaded her stomach. He held her with his stare until the end. Putting down the Stradivarius, Sherlock seated himself next to her and pulled her into a warm embrace, stroking her loose hair. He kept his lips pressed against the crown of her head as the silent understanding passed between them.

No words could be enough for the love they felt for one another, but the music, oh the music told a beautiful story of things that had been, things that are and things yet to come.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** thoughts? I love feedback! *hands everyone virtual cookies*


	4. Having a Bit of a Domestic

It was like a bomb set off; items strewn about, the air thick with a tension so strong, Mrs. Hudson didn't dare head back into 221B. She had walked right into the middle of a battlefield. Molly Hooper's eyes were like daggers. If looks could kill, Sherlock wouldn't have been standing.

"I see you two are having a bit of a domestic, I'll just come back later," Mrs. Hudson told them before scurrying back to her flat. After what seemed to be never-ending silence, Molly left for work not intending to come back that night. She'd stay with a friend; maybe Meena? _No, she's got enough going on as it is_. Molly told herself she'd just figure it out later.

* * *

"Need to see a Mr. Phillips," Sherlock announced as the doors to the morgue swooshed open with his dramatic flair, John following behind him. Molly turned to see Sherlock towering over her, no longer angry but still hurt. She motioned for him to follow her to the body on the slab. John noticed the strange tension between them but knew better to get involved unless his best friend asked him for help. _Probably their first fight since moving in together_ , John deducted in his thoughts. Molly kept going over the argument in her head even as she told Sherlock about Mr. Phillips' cause of death.

* * *

 _"What do you think? Breakfast?" Molly asked, perched on the sofa, her legs crossed under her._

 _"Nothing; I'm not eating," Sherlock answered curtly, typing away at the keyboard of the laptop._

 _"Are you alright? It's not like you to skip a meal for the third day in a row," Molly inquired, worried about Sherlock's well-being._

 _"I don't need you to be constantly hovering over me, Molly!" Sherlock exclaimed. "I have no need for food right now, I need to focus and I cannot do that with your overbearing presence."_

 _"What do you expect me to do!? Apologize? Because I won't apologize for caring about you, Sherlock, I won't," Molly shouted back._

 _"Maybe moving in together was a mistake," Sherlock muttered, eyes focused on the laptop screen._

 _"Maybe it was," Molly croaked out before Mrs. Hudson entered 221B._

* * *

Later, at Baker Street, Molly was asleep on the sofa, a bag of her things packed in case she decided to stay with Meena for a bit. Sherlock strolled through the door only moments later, a sad look on his face as he took in the sight before him. He didn't want her to leave, not really; he was only afraid. Sherlock wanted to give Molly everything she wanted but he feared he could not without screwing up somewhere down the road, effectively pushing her away and building up those walls again. _Well, you've already done that_ , Sherlock told himself.

By this time, she was usually cooking or eating dinner depending on his habits. There was no scent of food having been cooked or even ordered. Molly wasn't eating tonight. Sherlock brought her bag into the bedroom, unpacked it and ordered take away from Angelo's. This time around, he didn't need John in his presence to know the things he said were 'a bit not good.' He cleaned off the kitchen table, placing the takeaway that was delivered moments ago upon it.

Molly stirred in her sleep, smelling the food and sat up rather quickly as her stomach was telling her to eat already. Sherlock was standing before her with an apologetic smile on his face. He said nothing, but leaned down to brush his lips softly against hers before taking her hand and guiding her to the table.

"What's all this about?" Molly asked in surprise.

"It's dinner; eat with me?" Sherlock replied with a smile, hoping she would accept his offer. He let out his held breath when Molly finally decided to sit down across from him. They ate in an awkward silence and with the meal nearly finished now, Sherlock prepared for step two in his plan as he threw out their now empty containers.

"Sherlock, what's—" Molly began, being cut off by another brush of Sherlock's lips on hers.

"Molly," he whispered against her lips, "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry." He stopped kissing her to look into her eyes. "I don't want you to leave. Moving in together was not a mistake and I'm sorry that I said it; I didn't mean it."

"Then why did you say it? What's wrong?" Molly asked, tears filling her eyes. If they were tears of joy or sadness, Molly didn't know.

"I was afraid, Molly. I've no experience with—I don't know how to navigate my way in romantic entanglements, simply because it's not all logic and I'm not sure how to handle certain areas. I hurt you just as I was afraid of doing all because I was afraid; doesn't make much sense as that was highly illogical of me," Sherlock rambled on, trying to find the right words but it was Molly's turn to quiet him with the soft pressure of her lips against his.

"It's okay to be afraid," Molly informed him, placing her hand on his cheek. "Do you honestly think I know what I'm doing in this relationship?" She laughed as his face scrunched in confusion. "I always try to be careful around you because I know you're not used to being 'domestic'. Sometimes I'm afraid I might suffocate you with all the love I have for you to the point where I scare you away, but I also don't want to show too little of it either. It sounded like I did just that though, especially when we had a row this morning about that very thing."

"Molly, I don't want you to feel like you have to hold back simply because I'm not used to this. I want to try my best to show my affections for you more. I want to be…better for you. Please don't hold back any longer, darling," Sherlock pleaded. He cupped her chin before pressing his lips to hers firmly. The passion and love conveyed between them did not go unnoticed. Sherlock had never kissed her like this before and she was reeling in it as she rose to her tip toes for better access. He held her so close as if he was scared she'd disappear if he let go. Her fingers ran through his curls as he would give her hips a light squeeze in an attempt to bring her closer. The next thing Molly knew, she was being swept up into his arms, bridal style, and carried off into the bedroom, Sherlock kicking the door shut behind them.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Okay, this is no longer drabbles anymore lol I apologize. It's also quite angsty but realistically, they would have rows every now and then. Thoughts? *covers eyes*


	5. Disgustingly Affectionate

Soft music filled the air at 221B. Sherlock and John were discussing a case and Molly was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, playing with little Rosie who was settled atop her baby blanket. Her heart warmed at the sound of Rosie's cooing as she played peek-a-boo with her. With the small Watson reaching her dimpled hands up, Molly picked her up gently and covered her soft face with quick little kisses. The giggles that erupted from Rosie caused John and Sherlock to cease talking to take in the sight before them.

"Is that funny, sweet baby girl?" Molly asked cheerfully. "You're looking more like your mother every day. Don't worry," Molly paused, "she's always here watching over you and your daddy." Molly pointed her index finger where Rosie's heart was located. John was trying as best as he could to not tear up and Sherlock looked on with a smile that was so genuinely sweet. Sherlock moved to kneel down on the floor next to Molly, holding his hand out to Rosie before she latched onto his finger tightly with her small hand.

"Watson," Sherlock acknowledged in a gentle tone. He brought the baby girl's clenched fist that held his finger to his lips in a fatherly manner (or in this case godfather-ly). That was the moment John allowed one tear, just one, to slip. He's seen it all now. Sherlock being completely human not only warmed him up, but it warmed Molly to see such a soft side to Sherlock too.

* * *

Later that night, after John and Rosie left, the mellow music was still playing from the little radio. Soft light emanated from the fireplace and the dull kitchen light. Molly was in her pink and black polka dotted pajama shorts paired with a simple white cotton t-shirt, her hair loose and cascading over her shoulders. She was absentmindedly dancing around the kitchen as she cleaned up, singing along quietly to the song, her voice mellifluous.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?" Sherlock asked lovingly as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. Molly was completely melting into him but, at the same time, she was completely surprised at this show of what some may call a 'disgustingly affectionate' scene said in the voice of the elder Holmes brother. Sherlock pulled back to take her hands in his as he spun her around and pulled her close to him and he began to dance with her, their bare feet hitting the cold tile floor. They reveled in the tender moment unfolding between them with bits of laughter, small, sweet kisses and whispered words of love. When the song reached its end, he dipped her and her lighthearted laughter caused Sherlock to smile as he placed a small kiss to her neck. "I love you," he breathed as Molly planted her lips upon his. They both smiled as they continued to snog each other senselessly.

When they were out of breath, Molly asked jokingly, "Alright, who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes? Not that I'm complaining."

"What? Can't I snog my girlfriend without an interrogation? It's hardly a criminal act, Molly," Sherlock responded teasingly, a hand held to his chest with a look of mock-seriousness on his face. It wasn't long before they were both laughing so hard, they practically fell to the floor of the sitting room. They both turned to lie on their sides, their free hands laced together. Molly brought his hand to her lips, trailing light kisses along the various scars that decorated him. Sherlock closed his eyes with contentment as her lips moved to dance along his jawline.

"I love you, Sherlock," Molly spoke softly. "I will always love you."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I hope this chapter means I'm forgiven for the angsty one I posted previously lol. Thoughts? Opinions? Two Cents? xo


	6. Work Day With Sherlolly

*thunk*

Molly and Sherlock had run into each other as they rushed around the flat getting ready. They were both incredibly late leaving for their respective jobs. Sherlock was supposed to have met Lestrade at New Scotland Yard twenty minutes ago and Molly was at least fifteen minutes late. They scrambled around, tugging on clothes, ducking in and out of the bathroom and making a quick coffee. Once situated, Molly started to stroll out the door but turned back and skipped over to Sherlock, giving him a quick kiss.

"I'll see you this evening," Molly called out as Sherlock looped his scarf around his neck. He only gave a wink in return before making his way out of the door himself.

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?" Lestrade questioned, his feet resting upon his desk.

"Didn't hear my alarm," Sherlock waved off carelessly. John rolled his eyes at his best friend as they listened to Lestrade's case.

* * *

"Molly, you're late," Mike Stamford pointed out, ever the observant one. "You're never late."

"I know, I know, sorry. Stupid faulty alarm; I told him to buy a new one but does he listen? Nope," Molly ranted on as she straightened her lab coat. "It's not entirely his fault; I should've just used my phone's alarm." Mike just shook his head with an amused smirk plastered on his face.

* * *

"Interesting," Sherlock muttered, studying the tear in the deceased woman's coat.

"It's just a tear; what makes it so intriguing?" John asked as Greg gave him a shrug of confusion.

"As ever, John, you see but do not observe," Sherlock pointed out. "The tear here began at the seam and was made to stretch further. This is obviously a woman who takes extra care of her wardrobe and would have had such a tear fixed before wearing it out in the public eye."

"Made? You mean the tear was placed on purpose? She didn't just get the tear while on this outing?" John inquired curiously.

"Precisely. The tear began at the seam, so it was obviously done with a seam ripper. There are signs of forced ripping of the fabric as if it were being tugged rather hard. It was made after her murder, but the question now is why?" Sherlock explained, completely in the zone.

* * *

Molly made her way to the morgue for an examination. When she began to peel back the sheet, she was nearly startled to death when she saw black curls but breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't Sherlock. Though it wasn't what she had feared, she allowed tears to slip from her brown eyes as she was a bit shaken up. She performed the autopsy quickly and efficiently. Her break had come around and there was no stopping her from crying the waterfall of tears she had held back during the procedure.

Her break was cut short when another body was brought in, a murdered woman named Sharon Bennett. Of course, it was followed by the familiar sound of Sherlock's footsteps.

"I need to use the lab, is that alright, Molly?" Sherlock asked before noticing her eyes. They were pink and raw, as if she had been crying, he deduced to himself. "Molly," he spoke in a gentler tone, "are you alright?"

"Yea," she sniffled, "I'm—I'll be okay." Sherlock gave her a look that said _we'll talk later_ and Molly nodded in agreement.

* * *

Sherlock was home before Molly, which didn't happen often. He had no idea what had upset her so much earlier, but he wanted nothing more than to try to fix it or at least hold her until she felt better. His head turned as she shuffled through the door, looking completely spent. Neither of them said anything as she went into the bedroom. Sherlock followed soon after. Molly had already slipped off her blouse and then tugged the elastic from her hair, allowing it to fall over her right shoulder.

He appeared beside her, softly running his fingers through her silky strands and placing a kiss to her temple. Molly pulled him to her, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"Molly," Sherlock spoke softly, "whatever happened today, I'm sorry that it upset you. You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to."

"It's n-nothing, really. A bit silly of me, I suppose," Molly replied, her voice cracking every now and then. "I just had a scare is all. A body came in earlier and when I started to pull the sheet away, it looked like your hair and—." She trailed off, allowing more tears to fall. "I'm sorry, it's stupid. It just got me thinking about how it would be if I had lost you and I know I shouldn't think like that but –" Sherlock pressed his lips against hers, rubbing circles against the bare small of her back to calm her.

"It's alright, my darling Molly, I'm here," he assured her, his soft tone soothing her. He sat them down on the bed and lifted her gently into his lap, holding her tight against his chest, rocking her as if trying to lull an infant to sleep. Sherlock continued to place kisses wherever he could. She fell asleep in his comforting arms. "You are my everything," Sherlock whispered against her hair, knowing she probably couldn't hear him. What he didn't see was Molly's lips quirking into a small smile.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** More of a hurt/comfort chapter but I hope I am capturing our beloved characters well! Thoughts?


	7. Date Night

"Move over, you git," Molly laughed jokingly as she bumped him with her hip playfully. Sherlock rolled his eyes with a smile.

"You've got plenty of room," Sherlock argued back before their elbows knocked into each other. "Just to prove it to you, I'm taking more space away." He pulled her to him in an embrace from behind, peppering kisses from her cheek to her neck before setting his chin upon her shoulder. They both looked in the mirror, loving smiles on their faces.

"Suddenly, I haven't the need for more space," Molly smirked. They had been getting ready for their night out together in the tight space where the mirror above the sink was placed. Her heartbeat was rapid as he continued on to kiss her shoulder softly.

"You are beautiful, Molly Hooper," he whispered in her ear. She turned to face him, rising up on her tip toes to kiss him, completely forgetting about her light pink lipstick that now left a mark on his face.

"Oops," Molly giggled, "sorry." She swiped her thumb across his lips to remove the lipstick smudge. He gave her a most adorable crooked smile before offering her his arm.

"Shall we?" Sherlock asked.

"We shall," Molly responded, looping her arm through his.

* * *

It wasn't a typical have-dinner-see-a-movie type date; they had stopped inside of Speedy's for chips to-go and went off to take in the sights of London. The weather was warmer than usual and Molly had worn a simple light blue floral dress paired with black leggings and boots. Sherlock was in his usual attire with the exception of his Belstaff as it was entirely too warm for such a heavy coat. They ate their chips as they talked about any and every subject.

"For as long as I've lived in London, I never really bothered to really embrace it and appreciate the beauty of it," Molly admitted. "It's nice to actually experience it."

"Well then, Molly Hooper, why don't we be tourists for the night?" Sherlock suggested with a sweet smile lighting up his eyes.

"I'd love to," Molly replied enthusiastically. Sherlock had them stop at a stand as he bought a map of London.

"There we go," he smiled, putting the map in her free hand.

"Why do we need a map? We know where to go," Molly asked.

"We're tourists tonight, remember? We've absolutely no idea where we'll end up," Sherlock told her with a wink. They walked along Westminster Bridge Road, the London Eye all lit up over the Thames. The lights reflecting off of the water gave off a magical vibe that made Molly feel as if she were sixteen years old on her first date with the most wonderful boy from her chemistry class. That was the thing about being with Sherlock. Though he made her feel like the grown, beautiful woman she is, he could also make her feel like a giddy teenage girl who was head over heels in love. He had grown maturely quite a bit since they first met that fateful day seven years ago, but he also kept a childlike quality about him that fascinated her, especially with their relationship.

"Fancy a walk through the park?" Molly asked as they threw away their empty containers of chips.

"As you wish," Sherlock replied, lacing his hand through hers. They strolled through Jubilee Gardens as they laughed about some of the weirder cases Sherlock had encountered.

"Those should be published in a book," Molly laughed. "It could be titled _The Stranger Cases of Sherlock Holmes_."

"I suppose it could," Sherlock agreed with a chuckle.

"I still want to know the whole of that _Elephant in the Room_ case you mentioned at John and Mary's wedding," Molly informed him.

"Ah, maybe some other time; I can't give away all the good ones in one night, can I?" Sherlock teased.

"Oh, alright," Molly sighed in defeat with a roll of her eyes. Sherlock reached out for the folded map she still held and stored it in the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. He laced his other hand with her newly free left hand and kissed the back of it. A pleasant sigh escaped her lips and Sherlock let go to wrap his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. It was so tender and sweet that it elicited shivers from both of them.

"Molly," he breathed out, "I love you and I will continue to fall more in love with you each passing day." Their eyes were locked with such looks of love and devotion.

"You have always believed in me." He kissed her cheek.

"You were always there for me; no questions asked." He kissed her forehead.

"Most importantly, you have loved me and still continue to love me so fiercely and unconditionally. How I became so lucky to have a beautiful, brave, intelligent woman love me the way you do, I will never know. I do know, however, that although I was clueless at the time, my life changed irrevocably in an instant the moment we met." Sherlock then kissed her fully on the lips fervently.

"Marry me," Sherlock whispered in between kisses. Molly's eyes widened slightly, tears of joy that had been building up slipped from her eyes. "Marry me, Molly Hooper," he repeated. "I want nothing more than to make you happy because you make me so very happy. Would you consider taking my last name? I'd very much like for you to have it, darling."

"Yes, Sherlock, my love, I will marry you," Molly smiled through her tears. He slipped the thin white gold band encrusted with white diamonds and a blue diamond center that practically matched his eyes, on her finger. He couldn't contain the euphoria he felt as he picked her up and spun her around in his arms, causing Molly to squeal with delight.

* * *

Later that night, as they lie in bed wrapped up with one another, Molly nudged Sherlock slightly with her foot.

"Sherlock?" Molly whispered.

"Mmm?" He replied sleepily.

"How does Molly Holmes sound?" she asked.

"Sounds like the wish of my heart come true," Sherlock answered, kissing the back of her shoulder. He held her tighter, burying his face against her neck, leaving little kisses until they both fell into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** the proposal was not planned for this chapter originally but my heart was telling me that it just belonged here, so I hope I did it justice! Please let me know what you thought! :)


	8. A Holmes Family Visit (Part 1)

"John, are you busy this weekend? Of course you're not. Pack a bag for you and Rosie," Sherlock told him.

"Slow down there, Sherlock. What's this about?" John asked, refusing to do anything until he got answers.

"Bringing Molly to meet my parents," Sherlock answered.

"And you need me because?" John inquired. "This is not an event I should be a part of."

"Yes, but Mycroft will also be in attendance and your presence calms things down a bit, especially with Rosie present. The presence of children makes him absolutely uncomfortable," Sherlock informed him with a smirk.

"Alright, I'll go for the sake of you and Molly," John agreed. "And it doesn't hurt to cause his majesty a bit of discomfort too." Sherlock and John chuckled at the remark.

* * *

"I can't help but be a bit nervous; what if they don't like me?" Molly asked. She and Sherlock were just outside the door of the Holmes Estate, John walking up behind them with Rosie in tow.

"What's not to like, Molly? You're perfect. Don't worry about a thing and ignore Mycroft as best you can," Sherlock comforted her. "Everything will be alr—"

"William!" Wanda Holmes exclaimed, pulling him in for a hug. "Oh, and you must be Molly! It's so nice to finally meet you, dear!" Mrs. Holmes pulled her in for a tight hug, nearly cutting off Molly's oxygen supply. "Oh, and you've brought John and little Rosie! Come in, come in! Make yourself at home. Timothy, they're here!"

Sherlock, Molly, John and Rosie made their way into the sitting room as Mrs. Holmes went off to find her husband. They all took their seats; Sherlock planted next to Molly, hands laced together and John in a recliner with Rosie in his lap.

"I'm sorry, my mother can be a bit suffocating," Sherlock told Molly.

"Oh, I think she's lovely," she replied with a smile. "And your father?"

"A bit more on the quiet side but much more tolerable," Sherlock answered. Molly quirked an eyebrow. "Okay, much more tolerable for me specifically."

"Is that my future daughter-in-law in there?" they heard Mr. Holmes ask with enthusiasm. Molly blushed slightly as he entered the room with Wanda. "She's just as beautiful as you said she was, Sherlock." Now, it was Sherlock's turn to blush ever so slightly. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Yes, neither did I. Hello brother mine, domestic bliss must suit you well," Mycroft commented as he entered the sitting room. Sherlock only rolled his eyes in response.

"Say hello to John and Rosie, Mycroft," Sherlock suggested with a smirk.

"John and—oh, yes, the new human," Mycroft trailed off, clearly uncomfortable. John was suppressing a bout of laughter. _This weekend should be fun_ , he thought.

* * *

Everyone was gathered at the dining room table for dinner, chicken tikka masala with berry trifle for dessert. Mr. Holmes struck conversation with John and Mrs. Holmes was inquiring about the impending wedding. Mycroft only gave an exasperated sigh but he kept quiet on such matters.

"So, do you have a date picked out?" Wanda questioned them.

"Well, we haven't really talked about it yet," Molly explained, "but I was thinking sometime in the fall." She looked up at Sherlock to get his opinion on the topic.

"Yes, sometime in the fall is just fine," Sherlock agreed, giving Molly a small smile.

"September, perhaps," Mycroft offered, causing everyone to quiet down at his suggestion. "What? Why are you all staring?"

"We just," Molly began, "Well, we thought you didn't really, um, care?" Mycroft's expression was unchanged.

"Suppose I may just have a slight soft spot for my future sister-in-law and my little brother. I never did give my congratulations, I apologize," Mycroft spoke steadily. Molly's face softened, catching Mycroft off guard. She stood and gave him a hug, leaving Mycroft not knowing what to do with his arms until he settled on just patting her on the back. "Yes, well," Mycroft faltered, clearing his throat as she let go. Everyone simply smiled at the sweet, if not a bit stiff, exchange.

* * *

After John, Rosie, Mycroft and the Holmes parents turned in for bed, Sherlock and Molly stayed awake, unable to sleep. They were in the sitting room where Sherlock was keeping the fire going and Molly was curled up on one end of the sofa, the light pink nail polish on her toes was chipping slightly. Her eyes were closed as she let her mind wander to various thoughts. Sherlock seated himself beside her, wrapping his arms around her to cuddle up with his fiancé. She leaned into him, laying her head against his shoulder.

"You okay?" Molly asked quietly. Sherlock breathed deeply, inhaling the flowery scent of her hair.

"I'm perfectly fine…and a bit amused," Sherlock replied, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. "Are you okay?"

"Amazingly so," Molly smiled. "I take it your amusement comes from the situation with your brother?"

"Yes," Sherlock chuckled, "it was quite a painfully awkward sight to behold."

"He's just a big softy but doesn't want anyone to know," Molly pointed out.

"You'll be his undoing, Molly Hooper. I can see the headlines now: _The Ice Man Melted By His Sister-In-Law_ ," Sherlock laughed, causing Molly to join in.

"That'll be the day," Molly said, continuing to laugh.

"Mm, I love your laugh," Sherlock confessed, kissing her temple, allowing his lips to linger for a few moments longer. He began to thread his fingers through her hair which effectively put Molly to sleep in his arms and he followed soon after.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Mycroft is melting a bit and of course Mr. and Mrs. Holmes adore Molly! Thoughts?


	9. A Holmes Family Visit (Part 2)

"Oh, would you look at that. How sweet," Mrs. Holmes cooed at the sight of her son and his fiancé curled up together on the sofa, sound asleep. It was still early in the morning and only she, John and Rosie were up. He smiled at his daughter's godparents and turned towards the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. Wanda followed after him to start cooking breakfast. It wasn't long before Mycroft and Mr. Holmes joined them at the table.

"Sherlock and Molly must be completely knackered," John chuckled as he fed Rosie. "You'd think they'd be up by now." They were already beginning to wake up in the sitting room.

"Molly," Sherlock whispered. "Darling, wake up." He placed a light kiss on her cheek, his arms still holding her close against him. Her eyes fluttered open, brown irises meeting crystalline blue.

"Hi," she smiled lovingly.

"Hello," Sherlock replied before pressing a soft kiss upon her lips. Just then, they overheard Mycroft throwing a fit in the kitchen.

"It's My-Croft not Mikey!" the elder Holmes brother complained. "If you wanted to name me Mike, you should've just done so." Sherlock and Molly couldn't help but laugh.

"Come on, let's go before your brother's sanity goes missing," Molly joked, standing up and extending her hand to Sherlock.

"Mycroft? Sane? You must be joking," Sherlock remarked. The two entered the kitchen, hand in hand, where Mycroft was moving a basket of fruit off of his laptop.

"It's about time you two woke up," Mr. Holmes commented with a smirk. _So that's where Sherlock gets his smile_ , Molly thought.

"Molly, dear, would you like to assist me with baking later?" Mrs. Holmes asked.

"Well, she probably—" Sherlock started before being interrupted.

"Oh, absolutely! I love baking," Molly replied cheerfully.

"Just don't tempt Mycroft with cake; he doesn't need it," Sherlock taunted. Molly elbowed him with a glare in her eyes.

"Oh hush up, you. Everyone deserves a piece of cake now and then," Molly smiled warmly at Mycroft.

"You know, dear brother, I think I just may go ahead and welcome Miss Hooper to the family," Mycroft grinned. "Welcome, Molly."

* * *

"Well, Watson, Molly's right about you," Sherlock smiled as he bounced Rosie on his knee. "You look very much like Mary, though you do have your father's nose. You've grown so fast."

"She has, hasn't she?" John asked, handing Rosie her teething ring. She had been a bit fussy after breakfast with her fourth tooth coming in.

"Mm," Sherlock replied simply. He seemed to be lost in thought. "John?"

"Yes?" encouraged John.

"I understand if you would want to decline, so don't feel obligated to fulfill my request," Sherlock went on.

"Okay, Sherlock, what are you on about? What request?" John questioned.

"Well, I—hmm, no. Yes. I would be delighted? Yes, delighted and honored if you would consider being my best man, seeing as you're my best friend," Sherlock informed him.

"Of course. Of course, I will be your best man," John answered with a chuckle. "Sherlock Holmes getting married; you've come a long way, mate." He patted him on the back. "You're lucky to have her; Molly. I heard it in your voice when she had you say you loved her. The second time, I mean." John paused for a moment. "Molly Hooper is your Mary Morstan. I'd say that you're spending that currency well, Sherlock." It was a tender, understanding moment between best friends.

* * *

"Molly, dear, you are practically an expert baker," Wanda Holmes complimented. "These ginger nuts came out wonderfully; they're scrumptious!"

"Why, thank you," Molly giggled.

"Have you made these for Sherlock yet? They're his absolute favorite, you know," Mrs. Holmes asked.

"Did someone say ginger nuts?" Sherlock inquired, popping his head through the doorway of the kitchen, amusing his mother and fiancé.

"Would you like one, Sherlock?" Molly asked, already knowing the answer. He took one from the platter whilst giving her a wink and taking a bite.

"Well? How did Molly do?" his mother spoke with anticipation.

"Molly, these are incredible. Much better than the ones Mycroft had at headquarters. Best ginger nuts I've tasted," Sherlock stated, giving her a chaste kiss. "Thank you, darling."

Giving him a sweet smile she responded, "You're very welcome, love. Where's Mycroft?"

"Probably sneaking a cig—" Sherlock stopped when he received a glare from his mother.

"He best not be smoking. I shall have an outrage," Mrs. Holmes ranted. Molly scooped a slice of lemon drizzle cake onto a plate and started for the front door.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock questioned.

"I'm off to let Mycroft have his cake and eat it too," Molly joked.

"Oh, don't do that, you'll spoil him," Sherlock warned her. "Who am I kidding? He's already as posh as they come." That received a prod from his mother.

* * *

Upon hearing the front door open, Mycroft quickly hid his cigarette.

"Don't worry, it's just me," Molly told him. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"I try not to upset mummy. She absolutely detests this habit," Mycroft replied.

"Hate to burst your bubble, but I do believe Sherlock already blew your cover," Molly informed him as she walked over to him. "Here." She offered the piece of cake to him. He was hesitant as he looked from the cake to Molly.

"I probably shouldn't," he stated.

"Oh, come on, everyone deserves a slice of cake every now and then. It's not gonna kill ya," Molly insisted. "Baked it myself."

"Oh, well, I wouldn't want to insult you," Mycroft said, using it as an excuse to accept her offer. "Thank you." Molly turned to walk back inside but he spoke again. "You're good for him, you know; my little brother. I've always held you in such high regard though we never really interacted much." She didn't quite know what to say.

"That really means a lot to me," she spoke softly before turning to go inside.

* * *

The next morning, Sherlock, Molly, John and Rosie left for London. Mycroft had left late the night before. Once they arrived at 221B after dropping John and Rosie off, Molly plopped down on the sofa much to Sherlock's amusement.

"Happy to be home?" he asked her.

"Definitely," Molly answered with a pleased sigh. "Your family is lovely but it feels good to be back."

"I quite like having you to myself again," Sherlock smirked mischievously.

"What are you—whoa!" Molly exclaimed as Sherlock lifted her in his arms, kissing her all the way into their bedroom.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** so sorry for the super late upload; I had the busiest day! I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter!


	10. Erasing Fears

Two weeks had gone by quickly. Sherlock had kept himself busy with cases and Molly had begun tackling the wedding plans. The date they had chosen, September 16th, was a little over six months away. She had gotten Sherlock's opinions on venue ideas but nothing seemed to stick. Molly could get herself overwhelmed sometimes, as well as have the bad habit of overthinking everything. She knew his indifferent demeanor had nothing to do with her, but with staying focused on the cases he worked on. Sometimes, she couldn't stop her brain from going into overdrive.

 _What if he doesn't really want to do this? Does he understand the commitment he's making? He's Sherlock, of course he does; he's not stupid. But what if he's regretting it? Will he tire of me eventually? I'm surprised he hasn't already. Should I choose a pastel yellow for the bridesmaids? Hmm, I will talk it over with Sherlock if he actually has an opinion on the matter. Oh, who am I kidding? Sherlock always has an opinion. God, what if he realizes he's made a mistake after the fact? Okay, no, Molly, you know Sherlock loves you. JUST. STOP. THINKING._

"Molly, I can hear you thinking from across the flat," Sherlock called from his chair.

"Sorry," Molly spoke quietly as she peered around the doorway that separated the kitchen from the sitting room. He glanced up at her, back down to his phone and back up to meet her eyes. _She's worried_ , Sherlock deduced. He stood up and walked over to where she stood, still lost in her thoughts. Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"Perhaps you should take a break from the planning," he spoke softly, gathering her into his arms.

"I think you're right," Molly laughed half-heartedly.

"It'll be alright," Sherlock murmured against her hair, sensing that there was probably more than the wedding plans bothering her, but not wanting to push the topic until she felt like talking. He tightened his hold on her, his fingers drawing patterns against the small of her back.

"I love you," Molly whispered, a tear slipping from her eye. He felt it drop, as his dress shirt had soaked it in. The knowledge that she was crying alarmed him greatly.

"What's the matter, Molly?" he asked, pulling back to look her in the eyes.

"Do I bore you?" she asked as she sniffled. Sherlock looked like he was taken aback by her question.

"Of course not; why would you ever think that?" he answered.

"It's just—I was only overthinking again. I don't want you to regret marrying me; for 'tying you down.' I'm not the most exciting person to be around," Molly conveyed, another silent tear falling. "Don't get me wrong, I know you love me, Sherlock. I just worry sometimes."

"I would never regret marrying you. Proposing to you was the best decision I ever made," Sherlock assured her softly. "If I didn't want to be, as you say, 'tied down', I wouldn't have bothered. And who says you're not exciting to be around? I never tire of your presence. You're my favorite person. If anything, I'm afraid you're the one who will regret marrying _me_." This shocked Molly that he feared just the same as her. She felt it was silly of her to even think any of those things and Sherlock had erased her fear in that moment. Now, Molly wanted to do all she could to do the same for him.

"You listen to me, Sherlock Holmes. I have never regretted one moment with you, nor would I ever. I want nothing more than for you to be my husband, whom I love very much. We make each other happy and that will never stop. We've both been overthinking a bit too much; overanalyzing every little thing. We see but do not observe what is plainly in front of our faces. We're in love and we're happy, causing us to wait for the moment it gets pulled out from under us; waiting for something to go wrong because we fear it will," Molly said to him with a passion, proud of her epiphany. Sherlock looked a bit dumbfounded and it caused an amused giggle to rise out of Molly.

"You are brilliant, Molly Hooper," Sherlock smiled, realizing she was right. "I shall be even more certain to never let you go." He kissed her gently, relishing in the moment. "I love you so much." Molly's fingers lost themselves in his curls as she pulled him back to her, kissing his lips, jaw, neck and back to his lips once more. He followed her lead and kissed the top of her head, her eyelids, cheeks, nose, just below her ear and returned to her inviting lips. He guided her further into the sitting room as they snogged each other silly, his foot getting caught on that blasted area rug. The two of them fell to the floor in a pile, laughing so hard their stomachs ached.

"Well, I knew you had fallen for me, but not quite this hard," Molly quipped with a laugh. Sherlock chuckled at her humor. She had landed on top of his chest and he continued to hold her there, fingers running through her hair.

"You think this is falling hard?" Sherlock asked. "It doesn't even remotely compare to the depth of my love for you."

"Kiss me, Sherlock," Molly encouraged, a twinkle in her eyes.

"You don't have to tell me twice; or even once for that matter," Sherlock smiled as he pressed his lips against hers, leaving the pair of them lost in a moment of bliss.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I could not stop typing this chapter. It came to me rather quickly, my fingers flying across my keyboard. It's like Sherlock and Molly just took over for me lol. I love to hear your thoughts! xo


	11. Happy Birthday, Molly Hooper!

**Author's Note:** It's Loo's birthday, y'all! Fun Fact: I had no idea how old she was so the fact I had it as Molly's 38th birthday was total guesswork lol! Enjoy! Let me know your thoughts! *hands everyone a slice of birthday cake*

* * *

Wake up, make coffee, go to work. That was Molly Hooper's Monday. Today was also her 38th birthday. Before heading out the door, coffee and bag in hand, she snuck back into the bedroom to leave a still sleeping Sherlock a kiss on his cheek.

"Mm, Molly," Sherlock mumbled sleepily. She paused in the doorway. "Happy birthday." A small smile graced his lips as he promptly fell back into his dreams. Molly smiled back and walked out of 221B to hail a cab.

* * *

Sherlock yawned as he exited his bedroom, still in pajamas, when he noticed Mrs. Hudson set the tea tray down.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hudson," he announced.

"Morning, Sherlock," she returned.

"Mrs. Hudson, could you—"

"Not your housekeeper, dear," Mrs. Hudson interrupted.

"—help me with a surprise for Molly," Sherlock finished after her interjection.

"Oh, how lovely!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, her hands clamped together. "What's the occasion?"

"Her birthday," Sherlock replied simply. "She doesn't usually celebrate it but I feel it should be."

"Doesn't usually celebrate it? Hmm, sounds like someone else I know," Mrs. Hudson smiled slyly.

"Yes, now come on, we have no time to waste," Sherlock urged.

* * *

"Molly, there you are," Greg called out as he strolled into the morgue. "Got a body coming in for you to examine. Oh, and uh, I was asked to drop this off to you." He handed her a small wrapped box tied with a bow.

"Oh, thank you!" Molly exclaimed.

"Happy Birthday, by the way," he told her. She smiled in response as the fresh corpse made its way into the morgue.

* * *

"Sherlock, I had no idea you knew how to cook," Mrs. Hudson marveled.

"I don't, not really. Using a recipe and providing the exact measurements have a similarity to chemistry, so it's not too different," Sherlock explained. "But I do need you to taste it once it's finished to make sure it's not revolting."

"Well, I'm sure she'll love it either way. It's the thought that counts, you know," she encouraged.

"If it is, indeed, inedible, I can't go wrong with ordering fish and chips," Sherlock smirked.

"Hey, whoa, is Sherlock cooking?" John asked as he entered the flat with Rosie in one arm and the Victoria Sponge Cake Sherlock asked him to pick up in the other.

"Yes, John, I am. Now, can everyone kindly shut up? I am trying to concentrate," Sherlock demanded. He was making Lancashire hotpot, a dish Molly's father used to make before he turned ill; it was a favorite of hers and he didn't want to mess it up.

* * *

"Molly? You alright?" Anderson asked as he entered the lab.

"Hmm?" she looked up. "Oh, yea, I'm just a bit spent is all. I get off in ten minutes at least. I can go home and finally relax. Was there anything you needed?"

"Just wanted to pop in to wish you a happy birthday," Anderson smiled.

"Thanks. It'll be happier when ten minutes is up," Molly laughed. He exited the lab and she took out the small package that was delivered by Greg earlier. _Suppose I'll open it now_ , she decided. Undoing the ribbon and lifting the lid, Molly picked up the note left on top of the tissue paper.

 _Dearest Molly_

 _Love Sherlock xxx_

Molly smiled at the reference to the Christmas gift she had given him about five years back. She unwrapped the tissue paper, revealing a dainty silver charm bracelet. The charms were unusual to the typical person but they were meaningful to her. There was a microscope, a magnifying glass, a kitten, an anatomical heart and even a deerstalker. She laughed a bit at that before putting it on her wrist.

* * *

At 221B, everyone was gathered in the sitting room: John, Rosie, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft and even Anderson. Sherlock was making a few minor adjustments, as he wanted it all to be perfect for his Molly. His attempt at cooking was apparently astounding, according to Mrs. Hudson who had taste tested it, though Sherlock still ordered the fish and chips just in case.

When he heard her handling the door, Sherlock quickly approached to block her view and greeted her with a soft kiss.

"Happy Birthday, Molly Hooper," he whispered before moving aside.

"Happy Birthday!" everyone cheered.

"Oh my goodness," Molly beamed. "Did you do all this?"

"It was more of a team effort, but yes, it was my idea," Sherlock responded.

"Thank you," Molly stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I love the charm bracelet." A most radiant smile appeared on his face, happy that he had done well to surprise her.

She was pleasantly surprised with the dinner that Sherlock, yes, Sherlock Holmes, cooked for her. And it being one of her favorite dishes that had sentimentality attached to it. The friends gathered at 221B ate together in revelry. They sang happy birthday to her as Sherlock played the "inane" tune on his violin along with them. She blew out her candles, not really needing to wish for anything because everything she could ever want was there with her.

Molly almost believed the end of the world was coming when Sherlock actually handed Mycroft a slice of cake. She fed Rosie a tiny bit of her slice when John wasn't looking but Molly was busted just as the little Watson began to vocalize the fact she wanted more with a loud "mmmmm."

* * *

When everyone had left and it was just her and Sherlock, they had cuddled up on the sofa whilst sharing kisses and making conversation.

"If you're still hungry, I did order fish and chips in case my cooking turned out to be atrocious," Sherlock informed her.

"Well, I may take you up on that, though your cooking was perfect, thank you, Sherlock," Molly told him, kissing the palm of his hand where a faint scar was located. She got up to get one of the takeout containers and sat back down next to him.

"Any requests? It's still your birthday for another two hours," Sherlock reminded her.

"Let's be absolutely ordinary for a bit and watch crap telly," Molly laughed.

Chuckling, Sherlock replied, "As you wish, Molly Hooper."


	12. Undercover

**Author's Note:** Hey, y'all! This is just a little something I've always wanted to write so I included it in this story instead of it being a one-shot. I have photo references of Molly's gown and hair on my AO3 (SimplyShelbs16). I hope y'all enjoy! Let me know your thoughts! :)

* * *

She was spinning. The lights and people blurred around her until she could only see him. Sherlock spun her around once more before pulling her close. The situation was all very romantic, despite the actual reason behind it.

* * *

 _"Molly?" Sherlock called out as he entered the flat._

 _"Hmm?" She uttered._

 _"Would you accompany me to the Spring Gala?" he asked._

 _"I'd love to!" Molly exclaimed. "Wait…what's really going on here?"_

 _"I can't sweep my lovely fiancé off of her feet every now and then?" Sherlock teased. Molly knew he was truly a romantic but something felt off here, so she waited for him to elaborate. "Fine," he sighed in defeat. "While I do want to make you swoon, there is an underlying motive. I need to go undercover to keep a look out and help Greg catch a murderer."_

 _"Ah, there it is," Molly smiled. "Though, if you still intend to make this a date, I'll take what I can get." She winked at him as she stalked off to the kitchen._

* * *

Sherlock's right hand was placed against the small of her back and his left was placed upon her waist as they continued to dance. Molly was radiant in her aubergine stretch mesh evening gown with beaded net that matched Sherlock's dress shirt. It flattered her décolletage with a sweetheart neckline. The dress hugged her curves in all the right places and the skirt flared out a bit. Her curled chocolate locks were swept up into a chignon bun, tendrils of hair framing her face. Molly recalled his reaction well, allowing a smile to grace her painted lips.

* * *

 _"Molly, are you ready?"_ _Sherlock inquired as he adjusted his tie in the mirror above the fireplace._

 _"Alright, what do you think?" Molly asked, stepping out from the bedroom. Sherlock's jaw practically hit the ground, his mind in buffering mode. She giggled at his immediate response._

 _When he finally gathered his thoughts, Sherlock spoke softly, "Molly Hooper, you are the most gorgeous creature to ever walk this Earth." He lifted her hand to his mouth, placing a firm kiss against the back of it._

* * *

Sherlock scanned the crowd, looking for suspicious activity as he leaned down to kiss Molly's cheek. He looked quite debonair in his tuxedo, his aubergine dress shirt underneath. He also had his usually wild curls slicked back.

"I love you," he whispered, brushing his lips against the spot below her ear. Molly's heartbeat was rapid, as was Sherlock's. This was, perhaps, the most enjoyable undercover mission he ever had. It was then he noticed the man he sought after attempting to be discreet. Sherlock removed his hand from her waist to dig out his phone.

"Is everything alright?" Molly asked with concern. He began to text Lestrade who was located somewhere outside of the ballroom.

"Everything's fine, just letting Lestrade know we've got our murderer," Sherlock spoke in a low voice. "Just keep up appearances as if nothing is amiss. I don't want anything to tip him off or worse."

"Worse?" Molly questioned.

"I would never forgive myself if any harm came to you, Molly," Sherlock informed her. "It would quite literally kill me if I ever lost you, darling." Putting his phone away and placing his hand back on her waist, he lowered his head down to kiss her gently as their feet glided across the floor. They leaned their foreheads against each other as they smiled at one another. The pair of them looked up to see the commotion of Greg arresting the murderer.

"Do you need to go?" Molly asked him.

"No. I'll let Greg have this one," Sherlock smiled. "I'd much rather spend the rest of this evening with you." He spun her around and dipped her, eliciting a lighthearted laugh from his fiancé. He pressed a lingering kiss against her neck.

"Sherlock," Molly breathed out before he brought her back upright. The music changed and she rearranged herself, hugging Sherlock to her and laying her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close to him as he rested his cheek upon her hair. "I think this is how I should have my hair for the wedding." It was a random statement but she wanted to voice her thoughts.

"I couldn't agree more," Sherlock mumbled against her swept up tresses.

"I love you," Molly spoke softly as her lips found his. It was at that point, they both decided that they needed to go home. All of that loving tension between them needed to be released and the gala was not the place to be doing such things.


	13. This Is Home

Sherlock arrived home from a grueling case that had him gallivanting all across London. Molly was working late to take care of the growing pile of paperwork on her desk. He changed his usual attire for pajamas and a dressing gown, leaving the silky blue one for Molly, as it was her favorite to wear herself.

 _Molly_ , Sherlock thought. How things have changed since that awful night at Sherrinford. Things would've changed anyway, but at the time, Sherlock had assumed he would lose Molly forever but oh, was he wrong. The complete opposite happened. It was almost miraculous, though Sherlock Holmes was not one to believe in miracles. He even recalled the fact he had practically prayed for Molly to pick up the phone that night.

He situated himself in his chair with his violin, planning to get something new churned out. As he thought back on the pain he had once caused her, his melody was played with nothing but minor notes. Sherlock remembered the heartache and soul shredding feeling of causing her that pain and of the chance of losing her for good. He looked around the flat as he played, realizing that for a while, he has only been seeing and not observing just as he accused John of many times.

One quick glance at the interior of 221B, and it looked as it always had. When Sherlock looked closer, he noticed the differences for the first time; changes that turned the flat from home to _home_. There, on the desk, was not only his laptop but Molly's. An abandoned wine glass sat upon the table in front of the sofa. Speaking of the sofa, Molly's favorite purple throw was spread across the back of it. As he took in these differences, the notes on the violin went from sullen to cheerful. He stood to find other little signs of their cohabitation, setting his violin down.

He ventured into the bedroom, Molly's reading glasses on the right bedside table along with the book she was currently invested in. The clothes of hers that needed laundering were in a small hamper, mixed with a variety of his clothing. The faint smell of her perfume wafted throughout the room, the scent being strongest on the pillows of the bed they shared. There, on his bedside table, was a photo of the two of them taken in his childhood bedroom at his parents' estate. He had swooped in, wrapping his arms around her, and kissed her cheek. Surprisingly enough, Mycroft snapped the photo.

Sherlock took a peek into the bathroom where the shower held her shampoo and body wash as well as his. Sometimes, they'd share the care products, as well as share the shower every now and then. Her toothbrush sat in the holder next to his on the sink. He headed into the kitchen, opening random cabinets to find a small collection of Molly's favorite mugs. Opening the fridge, there were his experimental body parts on the top shelf and actual food on the second. That never used to happen. Walking back out into the sitting room, he noticed Toby curled up in front of the fireplace, the biggest tell-tale sign of Molly's presence aside from herself.

Just like clockwork, Molly Hooper strolled through the door to find Sherlock lost in thought. She walked up behind him wrapping her arms around him.

"Hey you," Molly greeted. "You okay?" He turned to face her and she rearranged her arms back around the front of his waist.

"Never better," Sherlock smiled, kissing her firmly. The gesture had taken her by surprise especially as he guided her towards his chair, setting her on his lap, never breaking the kiss. He held her close to him, as if he were holding the most precious thing in his world, which she was. Lips pressing together, strong arms holding them close, fingers running through hair and noses nuzzling against one another; they were lost in their own secret world. Running out of breath, their lips parted and she curled herself up against him, her arms thrown around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder.

The comfortable silence was welcomed. It was nice to just hear each other's heartbeat, the sure sign that they're both alive and together. Ever since letting Molly into his life with romantic entanglement, he has constantly worried about the many enemies he made targeting her. Of course, Molly always worried about his safety and, regardless of his claims of being 'indestructible,' they both knew he wasn't completely. Each day was a gift, never taking one moment together for granted. Sherlock kissed the top of her head, squeezing her a bit tighter. Molly planted small kisses just above his collarbone.

Toby meowed as he leapt into their laps, nuzzling his head against the spot where Molly and Sherlock's waists met on the chair. They laughed aloud together at her cat's antics. Toby eventually curled up in a similar fashion to his owner and promptly fell asleep against their stomachs.

"What a strange family we make," Molly remarked with an amused smile.

"Family?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, family: Toby, John, Rosie, Mary, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Mycroft? They're family just as you are. Did you not think I considered you to be family, silly?" Molly laughed.

"I just never looked at it that way," Sherlock stated with an underlying tone of surprise.

"Face it," Molly began, "you have way more family than you know what to do with. Never forget how much you are cared for and loved, Sherlock." She kissed him soundly as Toby purred against them.

"Mmm, love you," Sherlock mumbled against her lips.

"I love you too," Molly whispered before once again tangling their tongues together.

 _This_ , they thought, _is home_.

 **Author's Note:** I hope this look into the changes in Sherlock's flat and his life were enjoyable! please feed me with feedback you lovely lot! :)

(I'm not even British but here I am speaking the lingo)


	14. Something's Off With Sherlock

**Author's Note:** This chapter isn't fluffy really, but there are Molly and Rosie interactions to lighten the mood a bit :)

* * *

Molly was worried. Sherlock had not spoken to her once since returning from his weekly visit to Eurus. She knew those visits usually took a toll on him but it had been two days. He'd still greet her with hellos and goodnights with chaste kisses, but overall, he'd been so bottled up. Sherlock was retreating within himself once more. She never pushed him to tell her anything, always waiting until he was ready but it usually never took this long.

The third day of silence came around and Molly broke the dam.

"Sherlock, you haven't eaten, you haven't slept more than an hour each night. What's happened?" She asked him.

"Nothing, Molly, don't worry about it," Sherlock brushed her off. She felt a bit defeated but attempted to strike any sort of conversation with him.

"Any cases I can possibly help with?" she tried again. He didn't respond immediately.

"Nope," he replied, popping the 'p.'

"Right, well, I'm gonna head over to John's. We'll probably take Rosie for ice cream. Want anything?" Molly informed him, hoping he'd at least ask for an ice lolly or something, anything.

"Do what you like, Molly," Sherlock snapped. A single tear slipped from her right eye and she shuffled out of the flat, before he noticed. But he's Sherlock Holmes…he notices everything, sometimes without even turning his head.

* * *

"Molly!" John exclaimed, giving her a hug after opening the door. "Come in!"

"Thanks, John," she replied, following him into the kitchen.

"Want a cuppa?" he asked.

"Please, that's just what I need after the morning I've had," Molly sighed.

"Sherlock up to his usual antics again?" John questioned as her prepared her cup of tea.

"That's the problem," Molly stressed, "he's not doing anything at all. Not playing violin or taking any cases. Hell, he won't even hold a conversation. Lack of sleep and lack of food in his system doesn't help either. It's been like this for three days." John handed her the teacup, his brow furrowed. "Sorry, I shouldn't really be divulging any of this but I'm so worried about him."

"Don't worry, it's fine. You know you can always talk to me," John comforted her. Rosie's cries were heard from the sitting room just then. "She just woke from her nap." Molly smiled, taking a sip of her tea. She could hear John speaking to Rosie in the other room. "Want to see Aunt Molly? Come on."

"MoMo!" Rosie exclaimed, extending her hands towards her godmother.

"Hello, Rosie! I missed you bunches," Molly cooed as John handed her over. She planted quick kisses all over her face, getting a giggly reaction from the one year old. "I hope you're not too much of a handful for your father." John laughed at this.

"Oh, she's going to be a spitfire like Mary," John chuckled. "Your mother is watching you grow so big and beautiful." He kissed the top of his daughter's head. She already had blonde waves that seemed to grow longer every day.

* * *

They did go out for ice cream and Molly was able to forget about her troubles for a while. She was entertained by Rosie stuffing her face with strawberry ice cream, a sticky pink mess covering her hands. The face she made when she received her first brain freeze was a bit amusing to see. The curiosity that sparkled in her goddaughter's eyes fascinated her. Before leaving to go back to 221B, Molly purchased a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream for Sherlock.

* * *

"Sherlock," Molly called out. "I'm home, love, where are you? I brought ice cream!" When she left, he had been in his chair but was there no longer. She walked through the flat checking each room but there was no sign of him anywhere; not even a note left or a text sent. Molly felt her heart stop for the slightest moment. _Where did he go?_ _Is he in danger?_ She willed herself to calm down and finally put the ice cream in the freezer.

She waited and waited; five hours had gone by. She tried calling his phone but it was left there on the desk. He obviously didn't want to be contacted.

"Where are you, Sherlock?" Molly cried. She didn't even notice the word document open on his laptop that had the words 'I'M SORRY FOR MAKING YOU CRY' in all caps.


	15. A Cozy Night

It was pouring down rain by the time Molly found him. She knew exactly where he'd be. He was outside of St. Bart's, not in the least bit concerned about the rain.

"I knew I'd find you here," Molly remarked, her voice raised to be heard over the splashing of water against the pavement.

"Impressive," Sherlock smirked, "but how did you know? It's not a bolt hole."

"Well, you didn't need a bolt hole. You've been acting so strange since visiting Eurus that I figure that wherever you went had to do with the most important people in your life," Molly explained. "This hospital is where you met both me and John." Sherlock opened up his coat, coaxing her to let him wrap her up in it to keep the rain off. She placed her arms around his waist, hugging him.

"I'm so sorry, Molly," Sherlock spoke softly. "I didn't mean to snap at you. She's starting to speak again; Eurus. Gave me reason to believe a couple of Moriarty's associates are still roaming about. If they're anything like him, they'll target you and John first and foremost."

"Oh, Sherlock, it's alright, my love. Come here," Molly encouraged, bringing her hand up to pull his mouth to hers. It was a new sensation, kissing in the rain. The electricity between them seemed to grow with the circumstances. Their senses seemed to be even more heightened and it was an experience Sherlock never wanted to stop. They would both get very sick if they stayed out in the rain too long, so he hailed them a cab to take them back to Baker Street.

* * *

"You didn't see my note, I take it?" Sherlock asked.

"What note?" Molly appeared from the bedroom in pajamas, squeezing her hair with a towel to stop the dripping. He turned his laptop around for her to see. "Oh, no I didn't. You noticed that?"

"I notice everything," he smiled with a wink. Sherlock was still in his button up and dress pants. He stood from the desk offering his hand to her.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Molly squealed. "I got you something while I was out with John and Rosie."

"You did?" he asked, a bit surprised.

"Mhmm, a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, though it may not be wise to consume any of it at the moment," Molly laughed, pointing out the rain damage.

"Suppose you're right," Sherlock chuckled, pressing his lips to hers. "Thank you."

"Oh, it's nothing," Molly replied. Sherlock guided her to sit upon the rug in front of the fireplace, warmth emanating from the crackling logs. The way the flames lit up her face caused Sherlock's breath to hitch.

"No," he drew out slowly. "I meant thank you for everything, Molly." She was speechless and so he continued. "You're always so patient and kind with me even when I don't deserve as such. Thank you for loving me and caring about me so unconditionally. I just hope you know that my love for you is just as unconditional and you are the single most precious thing in my world. I am sorry I did not speak to you for three days, as it wasn't anything you had done."

"Sherlock, you can always talk to me about these things. I'm so proud of you for opening up to me. I will love you," Molly punctuated with a kiss to his cheek, "and love you," another kiss placed just above his collarbone, "and love you always." She finished in a whisper, pressing her lips against his lightly while crawling into his lap and wrapping herself around him, eventually using the tip of her tongue to part his lips. Her fingers gently combed through his curls, dampened by the storm.

Sherlock moved down to kiss her shoulder next to the strap of her camisole. She lightly ran her fingers up and down the back of his neck, still burying them in his hair. He kissed his way up to the juncture between her neck and shoulder, leaving an ascending trail before meeting her lips once more. He loved to kiss Molly, as it was one way of showing his love for her that words could never express. Their kisses were rapid and passionate but as they needed to catch their breath, their kisses became slow and gentle, sending shivers through them both.

When the need for oxygen became imperative, Sherlock broke the kiss, nuzzling his head against her neck. He noticed the effect the rain had on the base notes of her perfume, as it strengthened the scent. Breathing in deeply, he lightly brushed his lips across her neck, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from Molly's lips, eventually lifting his head to lock eyes with her.

"How is it you understand me like nobody else?" Sherlock wondered.

"Oh, I don't know," Molly smiled. "Maybe it's like that quote, "Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." Sounds about, right, doesn't it?"

"Wuthering Heights," Sherlock commented. "I do hope you do not liken ourselves to Cathy and Heathcliff. You are much kinder, darling." He caressed her cheek with his hand and Molly's immediate reaction was to lean into his touch. "But I do agree, that quote is possibly the best answer to my question."

* * *

As they lay in bed, Sherlock's arms wrapped around her, his face buried in her hair, he hummed a soothing melody that lulled Molly to sleep. The rich sound of his voice always gave her warmth that grew in her heart. He heard her let out a small sigh indicating contentment as he kissed her cheek before falling asleep.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I do hope this makes up for the angst previously lol! I love it when I get your reactions, so pleaseeee leave me comments to revel in!


	16. Sick Day

"Achoo! Ugh," Molly groaned. Sherlock woke to the sound of Molly sneezing and coughing.

"That settles it," Sherlock started as he felt the fevered warmth of Molly's forehead, "you're staying home." He slipped out of bed, ignoring Molly's whimpered protest, and covered her up, practically tucking her in. He dressed himself and turned back to his fiancé. "I'll be back soon with soup from Speedy's; it'll only take a mo." Sherlock kissed her temple and strode out the door with the intent on doing all he could to make his love feel better.

* * *

Sherlock had returned with chicken noodle soup and cold medication at the insistence of Mrs. Hudson. He found Molly coughing relentlessly, her throat becoming sore.

"Hey," she managed weakly, sitting up.

"How are you feeling? Any other symptoms?" Sherlock asked, straight down to business as he handed her the styrofoam container that held the soup.

"Just a sore throat from all this coughing," Molly spoke, her voice hoarse. He sat beside her on the bed as she swallowed her first spoonful. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her.

"Don't worry with speaking, just eat. I want you to feel better as quickly as possible," he told her softly. Just then, his phone rang. "Lestrade, n—" he was cut off by Greg's case offer. "I see."

"You can go, I'll be fine," Molly whispered.

"Sorry, Greg, I am otherwise tied up in a different case right now. Yes, it's very important I see it through," Sherlock ended the call.

"What other case?" Molly asked, wincing from the soreness of her throat.

"Yours, to get you feeling well again. It's my fault you were caught in the rain too long last night; the least I can do is take care of you for my selfishness," Sherlock replied.

"Did you just hear the contradicting sentence that came out of your mouth?" Molly laughed weakly, each spoonful of soup slowly helping her throat.

"I suppose it was contradicting," Sherlock chuckled. "Though, even if it wasn't my fault, I'd always put your health first." When Molly finished her soup, Sherlock went out to the kitchen to make her a cup of honey lemon tea to help take care of that pesky soreness once and for all.

"So, you can make your own tea," Molly teased when he re-entered the bedroom.

"Shh, don't tell Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock smirked. "And besides, this is for you." Molly took a sip, allowing the smooth liquid to soothe her aching throat. She drank about half the cup before becoming sleepy and laying down once more. Sherlock slipped in beside her, holding her close to him to keep her warm. He gently carded his fingers through her hair, humming softly in her ear. Molly snuggled in closer to him, ready to have sleep take over any second. "I love you," Sherlock whispered.

"I love you, too," Molly's voice faded before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Molly woke in the late evening, her fever broken. Sherlock had fallen asleep with her, his lips just lightly pressed against the back of her neck. The slight pressure made her heart swell with love for that incredibly sweet and clever man who once claimed to not have a heart of his own. She hated to break the contact but Molly had plans of her own. She turned to face her sleeping fiancé and pressed a gentle kiss against his slightly parted lips. It only took a few seconds for it to wake him and return the kiss.

"Mm, I'd like to wake up like that more often," Sherlock smiled sweetly. "I take it you're feeling well?"

"Much better, thanks to you," Molly said, kissing him once more. "I hated not being able to kiss you all day." Sherlock laughed at this.

"I wasn't too keen about that either," he admitted with a wink. It was then that Sherlock sneezed.

"Looks like it's my turn to take care of you," Molly told him, getting up to playfully tuck him in.

"One sneeze doesn't mean I'm sick," Sherlock argued with a chuckle. He pulled her back down onto the bed with him and they laughed together helplessly.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I hope this was an accurate representation of how Sherlock would handle a sick Molly Hooper. Thoughts?


	17. Here Without You

**I miss you. MH xxx**

 **I miss you too, darling. I'll be home in less than 24 hours. SH xx**

Sherlock had been gone for nearly a week on a murder case in Edinburgh. Both Mycroft and Lestrade had suggested he take it because they were out of their depths over there. Sherlock had initially declined until things took a shocking turn: two of the suspects had turned up dead. So, naturally, Sherlock and John had made their way to Scotland. Molly offered to watch Rosie and Mrs. Hudson watched the little girl while Molly was working. The system worked out nicely.

Molly had a relatively easy work week until today. On top of the usual remarks from Sally Donovan like, 'Molly, honestly, what do you even see in that freak?,' there was the emotional autopsy she had of a woman who was two months pregnant and she felt like falling apart. All she wanted was to curl up in a ball and ignore the world for a bit, but she resisted the urge and continued on. After she fed Rosie and put her down for a nap, Mrs. Hudson came up with a cuppa.

"Molly, look at you," Mrs. Hudson sympathized, "you look dead on your feet."

"Nice attempt at my morbid humor," Molly replied with a small smile.

"It was worth a try, dear," Mrs. Hudson remarked, handing her the cup. "Sherlock should be back tomorrow, shouldn't he?"

"Yea, tomorrow evening," Molly answered as she took a sip. "Thank you for the tea."

"Oh, it's no problem, Molly. Still not your housekeeper," she winked.

"Oh, I know that," Molly laughed for the first time that day.

* * *

 **I've solved it. This case is closed. SH**

 **I never doubted you, love. MH**

 **I can't wait to see you. SH**

 **Neither can I. I have an early shift tomorrow. Goodnight, Sherlock. I love you. MH xxx**

 **I love you too, Molly Hooper. Sleep well. SH xx**

Molly was having a fitful night, tossing and turning. She had her back turned against the doorway on her side of the bed. She was wearing one of Sherlock's dress shirts as a night dress. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was even, but her mind was still conscious, refusing to reach the REM stage. Molly didn't hear the bedroom door open but she did feel the shift in the bed and the soft lips pressed against her shoulder.

"I thought you weren't going to be back until tomorrow," Molly commented with a yawn.

"I had it all wrapped up early so I could come home quickly," Sherlock replied quietly. "Sorry to have woken you. John's staying the night since Rosie woke when we came in."

"S'fine. I wasn't really asleep," Molly muttered. "I'm just glad you're home." She turned to face him, inching closer, throwing her arms around him and nuzzled her head against his chest, allowing the sound of his beating heart to sing her to sleep.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** a little on the short side, but I'll probably upload another one later tonight. :) I hope this was enjoyable!


	18. Wanna Sip a Little Wine with You

"Okay, what is going on?" Molly asked when she came home from work. Lestrade, John with Rosie in a papoose and Sherlock were gathered in the sitting room while they analyzed the note on the desk.

"Don't worry about a thing, Molly, we're almost done," Sherlock replied. She peered over John's shoulder, as he was the shortest of the three men, to see the note for herself.

 _I will burn the heart out of you._

"What?" Molly gasped. "Isn't that what Moriarty told you years ago?"

"Molly, calm down. It came from one of those associates of his that Eurus tipped me off to," Sherlock explained. He took her face in his hands gently. "I promise you, this will all be over with before you know it; a couple of days at least. Do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, Sherlock," Molly assured him.

"Just promise me you'll be more aware of your surroundings for the next few days," he requested.

"Promise," she told him.

* * *

"What's this about?" Molly asked with a smile, later that night. Sherlock handed her a glass of wine, and surprisingly, sat down next to her with his own.

"Just thought I'd take your mind off things for a while," Sherlock informed her.

"Yea, but what about you? Drinking?" she questioned.

"Dulls the senses, I know, but I wasn't about to have you drink alone," he stated. "One glass shouldn't hurt." There they sat on the sofa, Molly's feet tucked under her and Sherlock's arms around her shoulder as they joked around with one another while they watched crap telly. Before they knew it, they each had three glasses of wine, enough to make them both playfully tipsy.

"Oh, one glass shouldn't hurt," Molly mocked in her best Sherlock impression.

"I do not sound anything li—like that," Sherlock chuckled. They were slow dancing, no music aiding them whatsoever, at two in the morning. He went to kiss her but missed her mouth and planted himself right below the corner of her lips.

"You missed," Molly laughed, pressing her lips against his. It wasn't the best kiss they've had as their mouths were a bit clumsy and they held onto each other tightly. There was more laughter than actual kissing. They collapsed on the sofa, curled up with one another, breathless from the giggles that kept erupting.

"I love you, you know," Sherlock mumbled, brushing his thumb back and forth across her wrist.

"Love you, too," Molly sighed happily.

"It aches," he commented.

"What does?" she asked.

"My heart," Sherlock replied. Molly sobered up a bit at that. Sherlock's emotions had free reign when alcohol was in his system.

"Why does it ache, love?" Molly questioned, concern shown in her eyes.

"I love you so much, it hurts. I know I can be an arse sometimes and I can be difficult but you've shown me that I'm worth it. It hurts when it feels impossible to express just how much I feel for you," Sherlock explained, his voice low.

"Oh," Molly gasped with awe. "Wanna know something?"

"Hmm?" he muttered.

"It's completely normal to feel that way," Molly told him.

"So, it's not because I have trouble with sentiment?" he asked.

"No," she laughed. "Even I feel that ache sometimes. It's a good hurt."

"Have I been a good significant other, Molly? Am I doing—" he paused, motioning his hands between them "—this right?"

"You've been doing just fine, Sherlock," Molly assured him with a kiss. "Don't worry about a thing. You make me very happy just by being you."

"You still love me when I'm an arse?" he questioned.

"Yes," Molly giggled, "Sherlock, of course. You're my arse." It was then, they both burst out laughing. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Marry me," he insisted.

"You already asked me that and I said yes. Don't you remember?" Molly snorted with laughter.

"Of course I remember," Sherlock defended. "I'm not completely drunk." He gave her a lopsided smile that made her heart race.

* * *

The effects of their wine-fueled night wore down and it wasn't long before they fell asleep on the sofa together, Sherlock on his back and Molly laying on top of him, curled up, her head resting on his chest.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** penny for your thoughts?

Two Things:

1.) brownie points to anyone who guesses where the title of this chapter came from lol

2.) I don't drink so I hope I was accurate with tipsy behavior lol


	19. Planning

"We should have it there in the yard," Molly suggested. "It's such a beautiful area."

"You want to have the wedding and the reception at my parents' estate?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, why not? It's perfect!" Molly declared.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Sherlock agreed, mulling it over in his mind. His phone rang at that moment. "Lestrade. Hm? I'll be right there."

"What is it?" Molly asked.

"Greg wants me, well needs me, to look over a recent murder case. He obviously overlooked something. Don't worry, I'll send someone over immediately to help the planning along," Sherlock told her.

"Oh, it's fine, you don't have to do that," Molly insisted.

"It'll be like having a more annoying part of me around," Sherlock winked before kissing her cheek and strolling out the door. It was only mere moments later before her help had arrived.

"Well, Miss Hooper, it seems I have been enlisted by my dear brother to assist you," Mycroft Holmes stated. Molly could do nothing but open her mouth and close it again, no words able to escape. The only thing she did was grab the tray of gooey chocolate chip cookies she baked earlier.

"Biscuit?" she offered. He stared at her for what felt like hours.

"Maybe just one," he conceded with his best attempt at a pleased smile.

* * *

Two hours later and four biscuits each, Mycroft and Molly managed to organize the small guest list, find and hire a non-murderous wedding photographer (Mycroft checked), and arranged a lovely floral bouquet consisting of peonies, garden roses, sweet pea and baby's breath.

"Thank you, Mycroft, you have been very helpful," Molly told him with a smile.

"Well, it does help that my future sister-in-law is quite tasteful when it comes to elegance," Mycroft complimented. "My brother is treating you well?"

"Yes, he's so good to me," Molly assured him. "And very sweet."

"My brother? Sweet? That'll be the day," Mycroft scoffed.

"Then maybe I'm just special," Molly laughed.

* * *

Sherlock came home to laughter; not just Molly's melodic voice but Mycroft was laughing as well. Actually laughing.

"What the hell?" he muttered to himself, not expecting the scene before him. His fiancé and his brother were sitting at the kitchen table looking over wedding magazines, a glass of dessert wine in their hands and a nearly finished platter of biscuits.

"Sherlock, you're home," Molly smiled as she stood to greet him with a chaste kiss. "We had the loveliest time. Thank you for sending him over. I can't wait to show you all the things we've checked off. I still want your opinions."

"Brother mine, your choice of lifelong partner is quite possibly the best choice you've made in your life," Mycroft acclaimed.

"How much has he had to drink? He never gives out compliments," Sherlock asked Molly.

"Only half a glass," Molly defended.

"Well, I must be going," Mycroft announced.

"You do plan on actually attending the wedding, don't you?" Molly asked her future brother-in-law, recalling the fact he never came to John and Mary's wedding.

"Weddings aren't really my thing," Mycroft attempted to back himself out of a sentimental occasion.

"You're coming," Sherlock ordered in a low, serious voice.

"I—" Mycroft began, desperate for a way out.

"I'm getting married to the most amazing woman, something we never thought would happen and Molly is and forever will be part of our family. You're coming and that's final," Sherlock ranted.

"If I have no choice in the matter," Mycroft remarked.

"You really don't," Sherlock told him.

"Sherlock, it's fine," Molly attempted to reason with him.

"No, Molly, it's not," Sherlock spoke softly.

"Not to worry, Miss Hooper—Molly—I will be in attendance," Mycroft gave in before leaving 221B.

* * *

"So, what do you think?" Molly asked Sherlock about the choices made earlier that day.

"You're sure the photographer isn't a murderer?" Sherlock questioned in response jokingly.

"Yes, your brother did a thorough background check," Molly assured him. "We'll meet with him beforehand so you can deduce everything you need to know." Sherlock chuckled at that.

"It is a relief the two of you get along, though I suspect it's more because you feed him cake and the like," Sherlock smirked. Molly playfully smacked his arm and Sherlock pulled her to him, hugging her against his chest and stroking her hair. Molly's arms slid around his waist as she breathed in the familiar scent of him.

"You were right all those years ago," Molly told him.

"About what?" Sherlock asked, kissing the top of her head.

"Domestic bliss does suit me…but it suits you too," Molly smiled.

"I suppose it does," he agreed softly, cut off by his fiancé's kiss. "At least your choice is better; consulting detective over the consulting criminal." They laughed until their stomachs ached.

"Oh, I definitely upgraded," Molly concurred with laughter.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I really hope I did okay with Mycroft's characterization. I still believe him to be very softhearted when it comes to Molly but still a bit cold towards Sherlock as always. Thoughts? Critiques? lol


	20. Hold Onto Me, I'm a Little Unsteady

My Writing Playlist For This Chapter:

 **-Doomsday Theme - Murray Gold**

 **-Help - Hurts**

 **-In The House, In A Heartbeat - John Murphy**

 **-Don't Let Me Down - Joy Williams (cover)**

 **-Unsteady (Erich Lee Gravity Remix) - X Ambassadors**

* * *

Sherlock had requested that Mycroft turn up the security on Molly. He was doing all he could to track down these old associates of Moriarty's. John was in his usual chair, Rosie on his lap.

"At least we have names now," John pointed out. "That's a lot more to go on than we had before."

"Mm," Sherlock replied.

"I know you're worried about her, Sherlock, but everything will be fine," John attempted to reassure him.

"It won't be fine if she's murdered because I wasn't fast enough," Sherlock retorted. His face softened then, breathing a sigh of frustration. "Sorry, John."

"S'alright, I understand," he replied.

"What are they up to?" Sherlock muttered to himself.

* * *

Molly was working in the lab when the warning alarm went off.

 _The hospital is on lockdown._

` Her stomach was tied in knots with panic. She quickly found a spot in the supply closet to hide. Her breathing was heavy but she managed to keep herself quiet. The heart racing panic that jolted her body was terrifying. St. Bart's never locked down unless it was a true emergency. Life or death; how ironic.

* * *

"Working hard, I see," Mrs. Hudson remarked, setting the tea tray down.

"Quite," Sherlock remarked.

"Thank you, Mrs. H," John told her.

"May I?" she asked, holding her arms out to pick up Rosie.

"Oh, of course," he responded, setting Rosie in Mrs. Hudson's arms. The ringing of Sherlock's cellphone alerted them all.

"It's Greg; hello, is this an emergency because—" Sherlock broke off. "No." He got up, shuffling around, throwing his coat and scarf on haphazardly. "We're on our way right now." He hung up the phone.

"Sherlock?" John questioned.

"Bart's is on lockdown; Molly's in danger," Sherlock informed him, his voice thick with anguish.

* * *

Molly was frightened. Her thoughts raced in her mind. She practically felt her life flashing before her eyes when the sounds of a gunshot reverberated through the corridors. The doors to the lab opened and her breath cut off momentarily.

"I love you, Sherlock," she whispered to herself almost inaudible.

* * *

When Sherlock and John arrived on the scene, cops and news reporters were scattered everywhere outside of the hospital. It was overwhelming. He desperately wanted to run in there and find Molly. _Unless she is…no, I refuse to believe she's_ —his thoughts cut off.

"Greg," Sherlock shouted over the crowd. "Is she alright, is Molly alright? Is there a way for me to get in? Any way at all?" Lestrade was almost at a loss for words; he had never seen Sherlock so worked up before.

"We don't know, Sherlock, but you need to collect yourself. I know this is a difficult situation but you need to calm down," Lestrade told him. "Working yourself into a frenzy isn't going to save anyone." Sherlock immediately composed himself, his breathing becoming even once more.

* * *

Footsteps were slowly but surely making their way to the supply closet. Molly remembered just in time about a detail of Sherlock's faked death. Her eyes flickered to the small container on the lowest shelf which held the squash ball that cut off his pulse momentarily. She quietly grabbed it and placed it beneath her shirt, under her armpit. The door was opened.

* * *

"Alright, yea, I'll tell him. Okay, wrap it up you lot," Lestrade shouted. He made his way over to Sherlock. "The shooter has been apprehended; you can go in and find Molly."

Sherlock Holmes took no time to rush into the building and up towards the lab. He threw open the lab doors, but no sign of Molly. He thought he could hear whispered words. Looking around to find where Molly could be hiding, his eyes landed on the supply closet. He approached slowly though he wanted her right then but was scared to find his worst fears confirmed.

As he opened the door to the supply closet, he found Molly lying on the floor, no pulse to be found.

"No," he gasped, tears slipping silently. "Molly, no." He knelt down and sat her up to hold her in his arms. "Molly, please—please don't leave me, darling." An intake of breath alerted him. Molly looked up at him with tears in her eyes. She threw her arms around him.

"Sherlock," she cried. "Thank God it's you."

"I thought I lost you," Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief, tears still flooding his stormy eyes. He kissed her head, temples, cheeks, nose, jaw, lips before burying his face in her hair. "You're alive."

"Squash ball under the armpit," Molly laughed half-heartedly through her tears.

"Of course," Sherlock chuckled. "That's my girl; my clever Molly. I love you." They held each other for what felt like hours upon the cold floor before John and Greg found them. They both sighed with relief, alerting Molly and Sherlock to their presence.

* * *

Mike Stamford gave Molly the rest of the day off at Sherlock's request. No one was hurt in the shooting, as the gunshot that was heard was only a warning shot. The shooter had been caught before finding his target, who was indeed, Molly Hooper.

Back at Baker Street, John took Rosie home, giving Molly and Sherlock a consoling hug before leaving. She and Sherlock were on the sofa, completely relieved to not have been separated by a bullet.

"I really thought it was all over when the doors to the lab opened. I'm so glad it was you," Molly vented as she held onto Sherlock a little tighter.

"I'm glad too," Sherlock spoke low in her ear before kissing down the column of her neck.

"Sherlock," Molly breathed, "I love you."

"Mm, I love you too," he replied, his lips dancing across her skin. He stopped to look in her loving brown eyes just long enough for Molly to take matters into her own hands. She nuzzled her nose against the side of his neck, her nimble fingers unbuttoning each button on his dress shirt as she maneuvered to leave a trail of soft kisses down his chest.

Sherlock swept her up into his warm embrace and carried her from the sitting room to their bedroom, refusing to ever let go.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** for the most part, this fic is fluffy but it's not truly a Sherlock fic without the danger ;p

let me know your feels! :)


	21. Be My Forever

**Author's Note:** even if you don't have an Ao3 account, I highly suggest you look this story up on there (SimplyShelbs16, Domestic Bliss Must Suit You) because I have tons of visual goodies incorporated into the chapter that I can't insert here. :) Enjoy the wedding!

* * *

"I believe the couple has written their own vows."

This was it; they were really doing this. The cool September air had wrapped around them.

 **Earlier**

It was almost time to walk down the aisle, the runner was set up in the backyard garden of the Holmes estate. Molly would meet Sherlock beneath the lovely trellis of flowers his mother kept. Her dress was gorgeous; it was a lovely white gown with ¾ sleeves, a sweetheart neckline and the entire bodice was overlapped with lace. The back laced up like a corset with satin ribbon. Her chocolate tresses were styled in a chignon bun.

The music began, cuing her, and she was walked down the aisle by none other than Mycroft Holmes.

Sherlock felt his breath leave him as he looked on with awe at Molly. _His Molly_. She was dressed in white from head to toe. _She's gorgeous_. This was the woman he was gonna spend the rest of his life with; the one and only woman who counted. Their eyes met and the electricity between them was noticed by all in attendance.

John was Sherlock's best man, of course. He held Rosie's hand who doubled as Molly's little maid of honor and flower girl. Among the guests, there was Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock's parents, Meena, Lady Smallwood and even Anderson.

 **Presently**

Sherlock spoke his vows first, gripping his bride's soft hands in his and looking into her shining brown eyes.

"Molly Hooper. You have always counted and I've always trusted you. My life has been better since you came along. I never thought I would have this; a beautiful, brave and intelligent woman who loves me for all that I am. You made me want to become the man you always believed me to be and I do hope that I am well on my way. Through everything, you continued to love me and love me even more. I have fallen irrevocably in love with you and I know you will always be there to catch my fall. Every moment spent with you is a moment that makes life worth living. I am yours, now and forever; always, my darling Molly."

There was not a dry eye at the ceremony. Even Sherlock couldn't quite hold back. Molly laughed through her tears of joy and Sherlock gently swiped a tear from her face with his thumb. Once her composure was gained a little, she spoke her vows.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes. I have loved you for a very long time. You are frustrating and brilliant; protective and loving. I'm sure there's more I could say but I can't seem to get my thoughts together."

Everyone laughed lightheartedly at that.

"You are the keeper of my heart; not only because you had committed the crime of stealing it all those years ago, but because I chose to give it to you. There was a time when you were untouchable; like loving the stars but knowing they wouldn't love you back. Oh, how you proved me wrong. You dry my tears, pick me up when I'm down and love me for who I am. My heart, mind, body and soul belong to you, my love, for you are most deserving. Anything you fear, we'll fight it together. Life with you is an adventure that I will forever be a part of. Right here, right now, you and I are stepping into a new journey: a life where we will grow old together, filled with love and family. It won't be easy and there will be trials but I will endure them with you, as I am yours, always and forever."

"Do you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, take thee Margaret Elizabeth Hooper as your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," Sherlock breathed, slipping the white gold band on her finger.

"And do you, Margaret Elizabeth Hooper, take thee William Sherlock Scott Holmes as your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," Molly smiled through her tears, slipping the band onto Sherlock's finger.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Sherlock did not hesitate to kiss his wife's lips, as he had wanted to ever since he saw her walking down the aisle. He wrapped his arms around her to pick her up and spin her around as they shared a most loving snog in front of their friends and family. Everyone cheered and the two separated to face their loved ones. John gave a firm pat on Sherlock's back before being pulled into a hug along with Molly and Rosie.

"Mo Mo!" Rosie exclaimed jumping up and down, her hands raised. Molly took the bouquet from her goddaughter's hand and swooped her up in her right arm, eliciting giggles from the little Watson. Mrs. Holmes took photos of the four of them laughing and smiling together. A favorite of hers was when she captured Sherlock kissing Molly's cheek as Rosie snuggled into them both with John smiling at his best friends and daughter.

The friends and family gathered at the elegantly decorated tables talking amongst each other in revelry. The trees had fairy lights strung across them for a low, romantic glow.

"I always knew there was something there," Anderson remarked with a look that told Greg 'I told you so.'

"Oh, you should've heard his theory on how you faked your death, Sherlock," Greg laughed. "He added in a very Bond-like snog between you and Molly after crashing through the window."

"Oh my goodness," Molly laughed as Sherlock rolled his eyes with a smirk on his face.

"Congratulations, Anderson. You have succeeded in knowing something I didn't see coming," Sherlock raised his glass. "Impressive for the size of your brain."

"Be nice," Molly scolded with nudge. Mycroft snickered at that, putting a forkful of wedding cake in his mouth.

"We're so happy to have you in our family officially, Molly," Mr. Holmes smiled.

"Yes, dear, you two should come and visit more often. Make sure you keep him up on that. We're not spring chickens, Sherlock," Wanda Holmes joked. "And I want grandkids before I'm dead, thank you." The entire wedding party burst out with laughter.

"Of course, mummy, we'll get on that as soon as humanly possible," Sherlock teased, making a show of deeply kissing his wife. There were whistles from John and Greg. Mycroft's eyes about bulged from his skull at the display as the rest of the party laughed wholeheartedly.

"Come now, Mycroft, surely you've seen a kiss before," Lady Smallwood chuckled. "I know you've experienced one."

"What!?" Molly breathed out, surprised she still had breath left.

"I suppose there's no use keeping it hidden any longer. Lady Smallwood and I are what you would call an 'item.' Go ahead and gawk," Mycroft joked.

"Well, this is a development," Wanda said with wonderment. "Timothy, dear, is the world ending?"

"Perhaps hell is freezing over," Sherlock offered.

"Not much of a speech, as it is more of a statement," John told them, "but I know for a fact that Mary would be thrilled to have been here at such a momentous occasion. She is here in spirit with us all, as well in the form of a video." He held out a DVD to the newlyweds. Written on it was _To Sherlock and Molly Holmes_.

* * *

The piece Sherlock had composed months ago for Molly was the song he and her danced to. He had it recorded to play over the speakers. His right hand was on the small of her back and her left was on his waist. Their remaining hands were laced together as they glided across the smooth white marble dance floor.

"I love you, Molly Holmes," Sherlock whispered in her ear. Her eyes closed momentarily, taking in how right it felt to hear her new name.

"I love you too, husband," Molly smiled sweetly. As the song came to a close, Sherlock dipped her, placing a soft kiss upon her waiting lips.

The rest of the evening was spent in merriment. Molly's heart melted when she saw Sherlock pick Rosie up in his arms to dance with her. She always believed he'd be a good father one day and this was just the icing on the cake. Rosie had taken to calling Sherlock her 'Unca Sherly,' which everyone found to be adorable. Molly had danced with her new father-in-law while Sherlock humored his mother with a spin on the dancefloor. Even Mycroft offered to dance with his new sister-in-law, much to everyone's shock, though they knew Molly had melted his icy heart.

There was laughter, dancing, comradery and the feeling of family that made everyone's hearts full to the brim with love. Sherlock looked to his wife and to the friends and family in attendance, finally understanding the importance and meaning of unconditional love and like the Grinch, his heart felt as if it grew two sizes that day.

* * *

 **Author's Note #2:** Let me know your thoughts! If you did head over to my Ao3, let me know what you thought of the visuals I made and if you listened to the playlist on 8tracks :) *hands everyone wedding cake*


	22. To Sherlock and Molly Holmes

_"If you're watching this, it must mean that my observations were correct and Rosie's godparents have married. Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper. I always knew."_

 _She winked._

 _"Congratulations, by the way, I wish I could have been there. It must have definitely been a sight to behold. The two of you have probably had a few rows beforehand, and though that can never be avoided, I know you'll always find a way to fix it. You're strong together, the pair of you. I knew John and I had made the right decision making the two of you and Mrs. Hudson as Rosamund's godparents. I do hope that you did not decide to watch this until after your 'sex holiday,' as Sherlock so blatantly put it on John's blog._

 _She took a moment to laugh at the memory._

 _"Molly, dear, make sure to take care of him…I know you always will. He's not as unbreakable as he looks. Keep him in trouble for me. Sherlock, you treat her right. I know it's hard to reel in the abrasiveness but remember that's a part of what Molly loves about you; a part of what we all love about you. Let's see. Oh yes. Never go to sleep on bad terms with each other…just fix it. Swallow your pride and move on. The love you share with one another is on a deep level. Now, I'm not the poster woman for being best at relationships, but I can tell you this: Deep love is about being silly together, being heard and sometimes, it's being a bit irritating. It's understanding, inspiring and being there for one another. Last, but definitely not least, deep love is healing. You show each other your vulnerabilities; pick each other up at the lowest points in your lives because the person you're with can make even the most selfish part of you become selfless."_

 _She smiled brightly._

 _"My wish for the both of you is to live long, happy lives together. Start a family of your own, stay healthy and thrive in your lifestyles. I love you both and miss you already. Never let go of each other and give John and Rosie hugs and kisses from me."_

The screen went blank. Sherlock and Molly did wait until they returned from their honeymoon to watch Mary's video message. They both teared up a bit as they watched their dearly departed friend send them her congratulations and advice. Molly finally burst into tears with the grief of missing Mary and Sherlock held her in his arms, silently crying with her.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** just a short one today, but I wanted to write Mary's message to them, as I believed it to be important to incorporate her more into my story. :)


	23. I'm Here

"Molly," Sherlock smiled, entering the morgue with John, walking over to kiss her cheek.

"Hello to you too," she beamed. "Case going well?"

"A definite ten!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Three murders, three different sets of fingerprints found but the same criminal calling card…but here's the catch: Two of the suspects were also found dead. It feels like my birthday!"

"You are so weird," Molly laughed as Sherlock made a face as if he were insulted. That made her laugh even harder. "I like weird."

"Oh, good, that's a relief," Sherlock sighed in mock relief. "I was afraid you had forgotten what you got yourself into when you married me." John looked on, amused with the banter his best friends had going between them.

"I know you're not just here to see me, so what do you need?" Molly asked.

"I need to use the lab but I would prefer to have your help in the testing," Sherlock replied.

"Alright, but later, I still need to finish this autopsy," Molly agreed.

"That's fine; just received a text from Lestrade to meet him. Come, John. Be back later, Molly, the game is on!" Sherlock announced.

* * *

When Molly finished the autopsy, she had a text waiting for her.

 **Forgot to say it before I left. I love you. SH**

 **I love you too. MH (haha my initials never changed, I just noticed!)**

 **Only you ;) SH**

Molly's breath caught. Sherlock never used emoticons…ever. She smiled to herself at her small victory.

* * *

Later at Baker Street, Molly was listening to music off of the BBC radio app on her phone, dancing around the kitchen in her black camisole and pink with black polka dots pajama shorts as she made herself a sandwich. Sherlock wasn't going to be home until later. She turned off the music when she sat down to eat on the sofa and turned on the telly. The channel it had been on was the news and they were talking about the latest case that Sherlock was currently working. Molly kept it on, listening intently, as she ate. Eventually, she laid down, curled up, pulling her throw down from the back of the sofa to drape it over herself.

It was a little past midnight when Sherlock came home. John had retrieved Rosie from Mrs. Hudson in 221A and headed home moments earlier. Molly was fast asleep on the sofa. Sherlock smiled at his sleeping wife before turning off the telly and gently lifting her in his arms. He laid her down in their bed, covering her up so she wouldn't freeze. Sherlock soon changed into his pajamas before slipping into bed next to her. The shift caused her to be aware of his presence and that she was no longer in the sitting room.

"Hey you," Molly mumbled, half asleep.

"Hello," Sherlock replied with a kiss on her forehead.

"I tried to wait up for you," she continued.

"I know," he smiled. "Go back to sleep, darling, you sound exhausted." She inched closer to him, laying her head on his chest as he wrapped an arm around her. It wasn't long before they were both out for the night.

* * *

It was three in the morning when Sherlock woke with a panicked gasp. Molly was immediately alert. He was practically gasping for air, trying to catch his breath.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, hey, look at me," Molly spoke softly, taking his face in her hands. He turned to look at her, relieved to see her there. "Shhh, it's okay, love. It's okay. I'm here." She stroked his curls as she whispered calming words into his ear. His breathing slowed as the panic subsided.

"Molly," he whispered.

"It was that nightmare again, wasn't it?" she asked him.

"Yes," he replied. She kissed his lips before sliding out of bed and holding her hand out to him.

"Come on, I know just the thing," Molly offered. He took her hand hesitantly, allowing himself to be dragged out of bed. She led him to the kitchen table, flipping on the low light. She opened the freezer, taking out a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, their favorite. Taking two spoons out of the silverware drawer, she sat down at the table across from him, setting the ice cream between them as she handed him his spoon.

"Ice cream?" Sherlock asked. "At three in the morning?"

"Sure, why not? My father used to do this for me when I was a child. Every time I had a bad dream, we'd share ice cream to make it all better," Molly explained. "It's silly, I know, but it works."

"It's not silly," Sherlock muttered, taking a spoonful of ice cream. Molly did the same, a small smile graced her lips. She placed her hand on top of the hand of Sherlock's that wasn't being used to eat the cold dairy dessert.

"Mmm," Molly made a show of thoroughly enjoying her spoonful. Sherlock's lips quirked into a smile at her exaggeration, letting out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. They continued to eat a bit more before tossing the spoons in the sink and putting away what was left of the ice cream. Sherlock pressed his lips against hers, gently coaxing her to deepen the kiss. The coldness of their lips and tongues gave a new sensation, causing small shivers between them.

"I love you, Molly," he whispered, noticing a small dot of ice cream on her nose.

"I love you too, Sherlock," she replied, soon caught by surprise as he playfully licked off the bit of ice cream off the tip of her nose. Giggles erupted from her mouth. "What are you doing?"

"You had ice cream on you," Sherlock replied simply.

"Come on," Molly continued to laugh, "I think it's time to attempt sleeping again."

"I agree," Sherlock nodded.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** this one didn't really have a main point lol I just wrote whatever came to me :)


	24. A Strange Case

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sherlock asked. "You don't have to, you know."

"Yes, I'm sure," Molly confirmed. "She's family no matter what happened in the past." They were at Sherrinford, just outside of the door that led to Eurus' cell. Sherlock had his violin case in one hand and held Molly's hand with the other.

"Just promise me that if it becomes too frightening for you, you'll let me know," Sherlock insisted.

"I promise. I'll be fine," Molly assured him. Together, they entered the cell, ready to face anything together. She went to sit on the bench as Sherlock brought out his violin. Eurus looked at him hesitantly and over at Molly. She turned to pick up her violin, positioning the bow. The melancholy melody that sounded from her playing told two simple thoughts: _I missed you_ and _I'm sorry_. She stopped, waiting for Sherlock to respond. The notes started off in minor, relaying the thought, _you are forgiven_. His impromptu composition soon turned on a happier note, telling Eurus of John and Mycroft's wellbeing. He told her of Rosie and how she's growing beautifully. Sherlock then played the composition he had written for Molly, the one they danced to at their wedding, telling her of the hardships, the good time and the love that continued to flourish.

Eurus then pointed at Molly, stopping Sherlock's playing. He placed the violin back in its case and offered his hand to her.

"It's okay," Sherlock whispered before Molly took his hand. She stood up and faced the glass with her husband. Eurus studied them for a bit before opening her mouth.

"Hand," she said, pointing towards Molly's left hand. "Ring." Eurus looked at Sherlock then. "Wife." He nodded ever so slightly. She looked back at Molly. "Sister…mine."

"Sister," Molly confirmed with a small smile.

"You…play," Eurus stated. Molly looked at Sherlock in confusion.

"She noticed the calluses on your fingers," he told her.

"He…teaches," Eurus continued.

"She knows I've been teaching you how to play violin," Sherlock smiled at his wife. The rest of the time was spent listening to a musical duet between brother and sister.

* * *

The next day, Mrs. Hudson had come up to the flat.

"Molly, dear, there's a client here for Sherlock, is he in?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, he'll be right out. Send them up," Molly replied.

"Was that Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock asked as he came out of the bedroom.

"Mhmm, you have a client," Molly informed him.

"Hopefully it's something exciting," he remarked.

"Mr. Holmes?" the man said at the door.

"Yes, hello, sit," Sherlock told him. Molly was in the kitchen preparing her and Sherlock's tea. She made another cup for the client.

"Tea?" She asked him after handing Sherlock his cup.

"Oh, um, thank you," he told her gratefully. "Mr. Holmes, I have reason to believe my wife has been kidnapped."

"Go on," Sherlock encouraged.

"There was a strange vehicle outside of our home, empty and no plates on it. I approached the door to find it had been left cracked open. I called out for her and she was nowhere to be found," he explained. "The vehicle was gone after I finished searching the house."

"What was your name?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, um, Cunningham; George Cunningham, sir," he replied.

"Well, Mr. Cunningham, it seems all too obvious, barely a two. Do you have any reason to believe your wife has been unfaithful to you?" Sherlock inquired with a sigh.

"Normally, I'd have a suspicion about such things but there's more. A man I know, David Blackwell, his wife went missing the day before," Mr. Cunningham explained. "He too saw the same abandoned vehicle and his front door was left the same way."

"That is peculiar," Sherlock commented. "Tell me, Mr. Cunningham, what do you and Mr. Blackwell do for a living?"

"Well, I work for the paper and David has a low-level government position," George informed him.

"I'll take the case. Leave me your number so that I may get back to you on any leads," Sherlock told him. Mr. Cunningham gave his card and left the flat.

"So, what's the rating on this one?" Molly asked, coming back out from the kitchen.

"A seven, perhaps an eight," Sherlock replied, sipping his tea. "I'll contact Mycroft about Mr. Blackwell. From what I see, they're both in positions of power but in different ways. Mr. Cunningham is a journalist for the paper who no doubt has had involvement with the likes of Ms. Riley. Mr. Blackwell holds a governmental position, no matter how small, but is still influential. Wives of well-known, important men are being targeted."

"You'll figure it out; you always do," Molly smiled.

"Yes…Molly, will do something for me?" Sherlock asked.

"Anything, love," she responded sweetly.

"I will do all that I can to protect you, but I need you to take precautions and observe your surroundings during the moments I'm not near," Sherlock told her. "Though I don't care much for it, I am also considered an influential man. I have an international reputation. There's a chance whoever this is could come after you too."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm not entirely sure if I was alright with writing Eurus. In an earlier chapter, I did mention that she was beginning to speak a bit again, so I hope I did well. As for the case, I encourage theories :)


	25. In the Thick of It

"We're out of milk again!" Molly complained. John could do nothing but laugh. "And what are you laughing about John Watson?"

"Oh, well, it's uh, Sherlock never gets the milk," John chuckled. "Welcome to my old world."

"Yes, well, I have powers of persuasion," Molly informed him with a smirk.

"No, you don't," Sherlock announced, coming up the stairs.

"Sherlock," Molly said softly and sweetly. "Could you please go pick up some milk?"

"That doesn't work on me," Sherlock insisted nervously.

"Pretty please," Molly batted her eyelashes before kissing him, "with cherries on top?" She kissed him again.

"Alright," he murmured, "anything else we need?"

"Eggs for the brownies, thank you, love," Molly smiled. As soon as the door to 221B closed, Molly turned to see John's amused face.

"Impressive," he complimented. An uproar of giggles came from the kitchen table where Rosie was buckled into a booster seat, coloring in an empty notebook Molly had given her.

"Is it funny when Auntie Molly gets Uncle Sherlock to do mundane tasks?" Molly asked Rosie in her 'baby' voice. Rosie clapped her hands in response, eliciting laughter from John and Molly.

* * *

When Sherlock returned with the milk, Molly made sure to thank him again, treating him with another kiss. Now that she had milk to refill Rosie's sippy cup with and the eggs to make brownies, she prepared to bake.

"You're making brownies," Sherlock stated but meant it as a question. He rested his head on Molly's shoulder while she mixed the batter.

"Wow, you should be a detective," Molly replied with a smirk. John snorted at the remark as he sat next to Rosie, watching her draw.

"Amusing," Sherlock remarked with a laugh. "Why brownies?"

"Why not brownies?" Molly asked in return.

"Good point."

"Touché."

John and Sherlock looked at each other briefly in amusement.

"You two are thick as thieves," Molly laughed.

* * *

"Any leads on the case?" John asked.

"I had called Mycroft about Mr. Blackwell. He's an assistant private secretary to the chair," Sherlock informed him, popping the last bite of his brownie into his mouth.

"And the unregistered car roaming about?" John inquired.

"Disappeared completely," Sherlock told him. "It seems whoever it is already suspects that Mr. Cunningham has already talked to me." The two chatted in the kitchen about the different possibilities of the kidnapper's endgame.

"Could be ransom," John pointed out.

"Also could be a lure," Sherlock added.

"You and Molly okay?" John questioned, nodding towards the sitting room. Molly sat in Sherlock's chair, Rosie asleep in her lap.

"We're fine. There's just stress from this particular case is all," Sherlock told him.

"Well, I figured the case has added some stress but I meant, ya know, with everything else," John explained. Sherlock wasn't listening though. He was busy staring in awe at his wife and goddaughter. John followed his best friend's gaze. "Giving you any ideas?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock muttered before focusing his attention to his laptop.

* * *

The next day, at Bart's, Molly had overheard a coworker she didn't recognize talking about their neighbor's wife being kidnapped in much the same way as Mr. Cunningham's and Mr. Blackwell's.

"Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear," Molly said, entering herself into the conversation. "What does your neighbor do for a living?"

"He's a lawyer, why?" her coworker asked. Before Molly could get a word out, he continued, "Is Sherlock on this case already?"

"Well, yes, but I can't divulge any more information," Molly confirmed. "Where did this happen?"

"Kingly Street," he replied. Molly nodded before returning to the lab. She called Sherlock on her cellphone.

"Hello," his rich baritone voice filled her ear.

"Sherlock there's a coworker of mine here, I don't know them, really, but he said his neighbor's wife was kidnapped in just the same way as the other two. His neighbor's a lawyer and it happened on King—" Molly was cut off by a cloth to her face covered in chloroform.

"Molly? Molly!?" Sherlock frantically shouted on the other end. He knew she was saying Kingly Street, so that's exactly where he planned to go.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** theories...throw them at me lol (though, it's probably fairly obvious by this point)


	26. The End of the Line

**Author's Note:** I'm not sure if I like how I wrote this but I hope it's satisfying for y'all. Like I said, I'm no good with writing cases or dramatic scenes such as these. There's more suspense and action in this than fluff. Thanks to SammyKatz for the suggestion that Molly's kicks the bad guy's butt lol.

* * *

Molly awoke tied to a chair in a room with two other women who shared her same fate. She looked down at herself to see that the rope wasn't as thick as she expected. Molly squirmed, attempting to shimmy herself out of the binds, as being small is very advantageous at times, but it didn't let up.

"There's no use in trying," Mrs. Blackwell told her.

"Hey, you some kind of doctor?" Mrs. Cunningham asked, nodding at Molly's lab coat.

"Pathologist," Molly replied quietly, thankful that someone noticed she still had her lab coat. _Of course_ , she thought. Maneuvering her hands to grab onto her coat and reach into her low pocket, Molly successfully grabbed her scalpel and began to cut her binds.

* * *

Arriving at Kingly Street, John and Sherlock saw the unregistered car that appeared in the kidnappings. The door to the house it was parked in front of was not, however, unlocked, but it took no time for Sherlock to pick it. They entered quietly, John prepared to pull out his gun whenever needed. They heard footsteps descending downward towards a basement.

"That's where they're being kept, I bet," John whispered. Sherlock only nodded, silently and slowly stepping through the house to find the basement door.

* * *

Molly had just finished cutting her hands free and she quickly began on the rope around her ankles. She only had one of the three binds cut before she heard footsteps descending. Keeping the scalpel in her hands, she quickly put them behind the chair to keep up the illusion she was still tied up. Moving her feet, she realized she could step out of the ropes if needed.

The man she had thought was her coworker entered.

"Hello, Mrs. Cunningham, Mrs. Blackwell," his eyes moved to Molly, "and Mrs. Holmes."

"What do you want?" Molly growled.

"Interesting," he continued, ignoring her question. "You are THE Molly Hooper. My shooter didn't kill you months ago like I had hoped, so of course, I had to take matters into my own hands."

"You're the other man who was in Moriarty's network," Molly realized.

"Hmm, yes, I don't really need these other two ladies…I just needed to get to you. They were my practice, you see. Like Moriarty, I'm not one to get my hands dirty but as you see, I had no choice in the matter," the man explained.

"Who are you?" Molly asked.

"Sebastian Moran, at your service," he chortled with a flourished bow.

* * *

John stayed at the top of the stairs as lookout, ready to call the police while Sherlock descended them. Sebastian had heard the creaking of the stairway, deciding to meet who he hoped was Sherlock Holmes at the bottom of it. His back was turned to Molly, hands obviously ready to pull a gun. She just knew it would be Sherlock when she saw the bottom of his belstaff come into view, so she got up quietly and quickly grabbed his arms, disabling Moran from being able to reach his gun, and held her scalpel against him.

"You do NOT harm my husband, understand!?" Molly screamed.

"Molly!" Sherlock shouted in relief at the sound of her voice. He then reached the bottom of the stairs. "Molly?" He saw his wife, struggling but surely holding her kidnapper in place.

"Mr. Holmes," Moran spat. "We meet at last. Your wife's a bit of a spitfire; more demure about it but I see why you married her."

"Right pocket, he has a gun, take it," Molly urged Sherlock. He went for the gun just as she said but Moran wriggled free attempting to reach for the gun first. "No!" She shouted before her elbow to Moran's temple knocked him out cold. Sherlock looked on in amazement.

"How did you learn to do that?" he smiled.

"I may have taken a few classes from Lestrade," she smiled in return.

"Police are here," John announced from the top of the stairs. Molly worked on undoing the other two women's bindings as Lestrade and others came charging down just as Moran started to wake. They already had him handcuffed by the time he was fully aware of the situation.

"Who knocked him out?" Lestrade laughed, clearly knowing the answer. Molly's once put together bun was in shambles and her face was flushed. "Good work, Molly."

"Thanks," she laughed half-heartedly.

"Wait…Molly did all this?" John asked, his eyes wide.

"Yep," Sherlock grinned, popping the 'p.'

* * *

When all was said and done, Sherlock made sure to call Mr. Cunningham and Mr. Blackwell to come to New Scotland Yard, assuring them their wives were safe. They were a little scratched up but alive, nonetheless, and that's what was important.

Arriving home at Baker Street, Molly collapsed on the sofa as Sherlock hung up his Belstaff and scarf.

"You saved my life," Sherlock told her, kissing her gently. "Then again, you always save me." Molly knew he was referring to the fall he took years ago, but he clarified more on the topic. "Not just the fall but you were helping me in my mind palace at one point too. The night I was shot, it was you asking me the right questions, telling me the best ways to survive." This new bit of information surprised Molly.

"I'll always try to save you, Sherlock," Molly spoke softly, kissing him again. Though, it was a sweet moment, Sherlock couldn't help but think back to when Mary jumped in front of Vivian Norbury's bullet to save him. He hoped Molly would never do such a thing if history ever repeated itself, as he felt he would rather die than have her in harm's way again. Shaking the terrifying thoughts from his mind, he felt Molly relax against him as she placed soft kisses anywhere she could reach. As he held her there in his arms, he was glad that the last of Moriarty's network had been dismantled for good.


	27. Love and Marriage

Sherlock Holmes found Molly's affinity for wearing toe rings strangely, for lack of a better word, adorable. She had a collection of different kinds in her small jewelry box. When she would pad around the flat barefoot, her toe ring glinting when the sun hit a certain angle, it left him with a small smile before going back to focus on whatever case was at hand.

Classical music played off of his laptop filling the flat today. It helped him sort his mind palace out. Molly knew not to disturb him as he concentrated. She curled up on the sofa, reading her book. It wasn't long before Sherlock got up from his chair and moved himself near her, laying his head in her lap as she absentmindedly carded her fingers through his curls. He delved deep into his mind palace once again, feeling more relaxed. He was 'cleaning out' certain things that were no longer needed before going into the one room he would never delete anything from; the room in which Molly resided.

Everything he knew and learned about her was stored in that room, including the important dates he was meticulous about. The day they met, the first time he kissed her on the cheek that somewhat awful Christmas Eve, the day of his fall, the day he came back and they solved crimes together, when they finally made up from the Sherrinford aftermath, when they became engaged and of course the day they united in holy matrimony; all of those moments were important to him.

Every facial expression she's ever given him, every sound she's ever made was tucked away in there. He knew her favorite songs, books, foods and all of the things she loved about him. Her voice resounded so clearly in his mind. Even the distinct smell of her trademark perfume strongly enveloped the room she had.

"Molly," he murmured, opening his eyes to see his wife with a book in one hand while the other ran through his curls.

"Hmm?" She asked, looking down at him with the most endearing smile.

"I love you," Sherlock spoke softly. Sitting up, he caressed her cheek with his hand and kissed her thoroughly, whispering the phrase over and over as their lips mingled together. Molly had already put her book down, completely enamored by the semi-rare romantic moment they were having. Brahms' Waltz No. 15 began to play, and before Molly could say anything back, Sherlock had her up off of the sofa as he began to take her in his arms. They waltzed across 221B, their bare feet moving with the enchanting music.

It wasn't long before his full lips were on hers again. It was gentle and passionate all rolled into one; the promise of love being conveyed into one kiss. The song drew to a close and Molly wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her tip toes to reach his ear.

"I love you and I will always love you," she whispered. Molly kissed his cheek, jaw, neck and lips and nuzzled her nose against his. He never vocalized it, but Sherlock always enjoyed her nuzzling, as he couldn't help but automatically respond to it each time. He kissed the top of her head, allowing his lips to linger against it.

"I am so happy you married me," he muttered. Molly hugged him tighter to her.

"I'm very happy you married me too," she told him with a contented sigh. He glanced down, noticing the glint of the remaining sunlight coming from the little silver toe ring she wore. Sherlock smiled before kissing his wife again. And again. And again.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** A lot of fluff to make up for that whole kidnapping thing ;)


	28. Sick Day pt 2 aka a VERY Important Case

It was mid-October when the panic happened. Molly had woken up with a bout of nausea. Sherlock was going back and forth between trying to call Stamford about her sickness and attempting to comfort his wife. He wasn't used to coming down with anything, so he wasn't sure what it was she had. She did not have a fever or anything else indicating a stomach virus. Sherlock thought back on the last few days.

 _Refusing one of her favorite foods, a couple of mood swings, abdominal bloating…OH._

"Sherlock, I'll be fine," Molly panted. "Go try and call Mike again." He did as she said, already knowing the nature of her condition. He walked out in the sitting room and finally got a hold of Mike after a few minutes, telling him Molly was sick today and couldn't come in. He then ventured to call John but Molly walked out at that moment.

"Molly, are you alright?" Sherlock asked. "Y-you should rest and—"

"Sherlock," Molly spoke hesitantly. "Don't bother denying it, I know you've probably already deduced it but let me have a go at this." She wrapped her arms around his waist, looking up into his oceanic eyes. Sherlock opened then closed his mouth, waiting for the words to leave her lips. "I'm pregnant." He began to answer but Molly cut him off again, rambling on. "And I know underneath that calm exterior, you're probably panicking or something, I don't know bu—"

It was Sherlock's turn and he pressed his lips to hers firmly.

"Hush, Molly," Sherlock spoke softly with a smile. "I am absolutely over the moon about this." He kissed her once more, softly this time, feeling her smile against his lips.

"We're going to be parents," Molly laughed lightheartedly. Her quiet laugh soon turned into overjoyed giggles and Sherlock had shared in her exultance.

* * *

Later that night, Molly found that fresh fruit really did well to settle her stomach. They had set up an appointment for her to see how far along she was, though Molly was sure it was only a couple of weeks. When they had everything settled tomorrow, Sherlock and Molly decided they would inform John and the others about their impending parenthood.

"Molly?" Sherlock asked.

"Hmm?" Molly responded, scrolling through her phone.

"Do you believe I'd be a good father?" he asked tentatively, his eyes cast downward. Molly placed her phone on the bedside table before answering.

"Sherlock, of course you will," Molly assured him with a smile. "I see how you are with Rosie and she absolutely adores you. You're good with her. It comes so naturally to you even as a godfather. Everything will be fine, my love." She cuddled up against him in a warm embrace and he wrapped an arm around her, his right hand gently placed upon her stomach.

"You'll be a wonderful mother," he told her softly, kissing the top of her head.

* * *

The next day, it was confirmed that Molly was indeed a little over two weeks along. She had gone to work afterwards, keeping a container of fruit in the employee fridge for her to have with lunch. She and Sherlock invited everyone over for pizza tonight because, frankly, she just didn't feel like cooking and her husband was just given a case, so he wouldn't be eating tonight anyways. She smiled to herself, _the game is on_. His baritone voice rang in her ears as she finished up the autopsy.

* * *

"Sherlock, I hope there is a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why you had me fly father and mummy here tonight," Mycroft told his brother over the phone.

"Yes, Mycroft, it is imperative they be at Baker Street tonight as well as you," Sherlock told him. Before Mycroft could offer any snide remarks or deductions, Sherlock ended the call and returned to the case at hand with Lestrade and John.

* * *

Pizza boxes covered the kitchen table, three different kinds just in case, and Molly greeted everyone who came. The flat was soon filled with John and Rosie, Mrs. Hudson, Greg, Mycroft and Mr. and Mrs. Holmes.

"Molly, dear, it's so good to see you!" Wanda Holmes exclaimed.

"Likewise, Mrs. Holmes," Molly smiled. "And you too, Mr. Holmes."

"Now, Molly, you know you don't have to be so formal with us. You're welcome to call us mum and dad," Timothy Holmes assured her.

"Alright, Sherlock, what's this all about?" John asked. The friends gathered in the flat quieted, awaiting his response. Mycroft gave a knowing look, but did not ruin the surprise.

"It's…about a case," Sherlock started. Molly moved to stand with her husband.

"You called us here about a case?" Greg questioned before being gently swatted at by Mrs. Hudson.

"Hush now, let him talk," she said.

"Yes, it's a very unexpected case," Molly offered, unable to hide her smile.

"Possibly the most important one I've ever had to take on," Sherlock smirked.

"We're going to have a baby," Molly's gentle tone washed over the room. She laced her fingers with Sherlock's, smiles spreading across everyone's faces.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Wanda Holmes and Martha Hudson exclaimed, clasping their hands together.

"Well, what do you know," Mr. Holmes mused.

"Brother mine, Molly," Mycroft began, "this is a most momentous occasion. I offer my congratulations." He attempted a genuine smile.

"Good on ya, Sherlock," Greg said patting his back. "Really happy for the both of you."

"Well, I never thought I'd see the day, but then again, look at the life you've made for yourself," John remarked. "Congratulations." He hugged them both. "What do you think, Rosie? Uncle Sherlock and Aunt Molly are having a baby." A wide grin spread across her face as she clapped her hands together. The rest of the evening was spent in celebration of the newest addition to be coming into their loving little family.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** and the adventures of Parent!Lock begin! Let me know your thoughts and guesses on the gender :)


	29. Christmas at 221B

Snow was drifting onto the street like a white fluffy blanket. Fairy lights decorated the fireplace mantle and the windows of 221B. The fire was crackling giving off warmth that filled the flat. There was an actual tree put up as well. It was small, only five feet tall, and it was set up by the window behind Sherlock's chair. It was Christmas Eve and friends were once again gathered for a festive celebration. Molly and Mrs. Hudson made sure Sherlock was on his best behavior.

"No losing control of your deductions this time, Sherlock," Molly warned him, reminding him of a past Christmas several years ago. He winced at the memory.

"I really am sorry about that, Molly," Sherlock told her sheepishly.

"It's alright, love, I've already forgiven you a long time ago," Molly smiled. They both stood to greet the guests as they came in; Greg, Mrs. Hudson, John, Rosie and Mycroft.

"I didn't think you would show, as you despise this holiday," Sherlock remarked to his brother.

"Well, I was promised fairy cakes made by your wife," Mycroft commented. "How could I pass it up?"

"Alright, children, settle down," Molly teased. "And Mycroft, stop hiding it; we all know you secretly love spending Christmas with your brother." He grimaced at the fact that Molly had become superb at seeing right through him.

"Must you always figure me out, sister dear? It isn't fair," Mycroft groaned

"Oh, hush and have a fairy cake. Life isn't fair, Mycroft Holmes," Molly scolded.

"The hormonal mood swings have definitely kicked in then?" Mycroft rhetorically asked, receiving a glare from Molly.

"That's my girl," Sherlock laughed. The rest of their friends watched on with amusement at the very domestic familial scene unfolding in front of them.

"How far along are you now, Molly?" Greg asked.

"Tomorrow will be twelve weeks exactly," Molly smiled. "We already had our first ultrasound to find out the due date which is July ninth."

"Unca Lock!" Rosie giggled running into her godfather's arms.

"Wow," Sherlock marveled playfully, picking her up, "you get bigger every time I see you!" He kissed the top of her head before setting her down again. Rosie skipped over to the sofa where Molly was sitting.

"Is the baby in there?" Rosie asked, pointing at Molly's baby bump beneath her Christmas jumper.

"It is," Molly laughed, taking Rosie's hand and pressing it gently to her tummy.

"Pretty baby," Rosie cooed at the unborn child growing inside of her Aunt Molly. Everyone in the room was awestruck by the moment.

* * *

Sherlock picked up his violin to perform festive carols for everyone, clearly enjoying Christmas for the first time in a very long time. He played the Christmas Waltz and Molly was absentmindedly singing the lyrics along with her husband's playing as she stroked Rosie's blonde curls. When the song came to a close, Greg whistled as the others clapped and spoke their praise at the duet. Molly blushed not realizing that her singing was heard until that moment.

"That was lovely," Mrs. Hudson complimented in a motherly tone.

* * *

Later that night, everyone was swapping stories about the old days with one another. Rosie was sitting in John's lap and Mrs. Hudson had taken Sherlock's chair. Mycroft and Greg stayed standing. Sherlock had Molly's upper half leaning against him as she half laid down on the sofa. He had his arms encircling her, one hand on her growing belly and the other hand laced with hers. Old Christmas favorites softly drifted through 221B. The popping and crackling of the fire was a comforting sound for Molly, wrapped up with her doting husband.

"He told me that he came off the tube covered in whatever blood that was," John laughed, "all because the taxi wouldn't allow him." Molly laughed at this.

"He asked me for a second opinion on alcohol consumption for John's stag party," Molly laughed. "I knew damn well he didn't need me for that." She paused, covering her mouth. "Oh, sorry. Rosie, don't repeat Aunt Molly's words. But anyways, you just wanted to see me."

"Did not," Sherlock held his ground defensively.

"Don't listen to him, Molly, he definitely did just want to see you," John sided with her.

"I needed a second opinion," Sherlock claimed.

"YOU needed a second opinion? The great all-knowing Sherlock Holmes?" Greg asked in disbelief.

"You're a graduate chemist, Sherlock, honestly," Molly rolled her eyes with a playful push to his chest. Sherlock looked to Mycroft for backup.

"Sorry, brother mine, but they're right. You only wanted to see Miss Hooper, ahem, Molly," Mycroft smiled smugly.

"Okay, fine, I just wanted to see you," Sherlock conceded, kissing Molly's temple. "You look beautiful, by the way," he whispered in her ear. He was rewarded with a bright smile.

* * *

Before the celebratory night ended, everyone exchanged gifts with one another. Even Mycroft partook in the tradition. Molly and Sherlock's gift to Rosie was a custom stuffed bear wearing a deerstalker. Sherlock had loathed the idea at first, but Molly talked him around to it after suggesting they should also get one for the baby, though not born yet.

"It looks like you, Unca Lock," Rosie giggled with glee.

"What do you say, Rosie?" John chuckled.

"Thank you," she squealed with delight, giving them hugs. Mycroft opened his gift from Sherlock and Molly, as it was a new pocket watch. It was Sherlock's idea, surprisingly. The engraving of his name on the back had been Molly's idea as she thought it would add a more personal touch.

"This is very thoughtful, thank you, truly," Mycroft told them.

John's gift from them was another of sentiment, one that both Molly and Sherlock thought of. When they approached one another about their ideas, the two of them laughed in surprise as they had thought of practically the same thing. It was a digital photo frame with a slideshow of pictures from his and Mary's wedding, Rosie's christening and more.

"We thought it would be a nice touch for your home," Molly explained, afraid it might not have been the best idea.

"Yes, it—it is, really, thank you, both of you," John sniffed.

"Mommy," Rosie pointed at Mary in the photo Mrs. Hudson had taken the day everyone gathered at the Watson residence after Rosie's birth.

"Yes, that is your mommy, Rosie," John confirmed with a smile.

Sherlock and Molly weren't going to be exchanging their gifts for one another until everyone left, but Molly handed him a very familiar gift wrapped in red. The card read:

 **Dearest Sherlock**

 **Love Molly xxx**

"Molly?" Sherlock asked, his brow furrowing.

"I know we decided to wait until everyone left but this one's extra…I found it under the bed. You never opened it that Christmas…why?" Molly questioned.

"I felt I didn't deserve it from the way I had treated you," Sherlock confessed. Collectively, everyone in the room realized what this gift was.

"I think you more than made up for all that," Molly smiled. "Open it?" Sherlock hesitantly took it into his hands, undoing the ribbon that tied it together. He opened it to reveal a hand knitted oxford blue scarf.

"Molly, this is—" Sherlock faltered, unable to find the right words. "It's perfect." He approached her, much like that first Christmas, slowly, and kissed her lips softly before whispering in her ear, "thank you, I love you." The two completely disregarded the fact they weren't the only ones in the flat.

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock Holmes," Molly smiled, her eyes twinkling.

* * *

When everyone had left, they did exchange their remaining gifts. Sherlock gave his first. Molly unwrapped the thin package, revealing a beautiful silver heart-shaped locket with her name engraved on the front. The back was engraved with a message that read:

 _My love._

 _My life._

 _My forever._

She opened it up to find a photo from her and Sherlock's wedding.

"I tried to find an anatomical heart but it didn't quite work out," Sherlock commented.

"Sherlock, it's beautiful. Thank you, I love it," Molly smiled before kissing him. "I'll make sure to have a photo of our baby on the other side." She handed him his other gift. It was a small box filled with various colored envelopes with different instructions.

 _Open when…you miss me._

 _Open when…you're mad at me._

 _Open when…you're…you know ;)_

 _Open when…you need to smile._

 _Open when…you're bored._

 _Open when…you need to know how much I love you._

 _Open Now._

Sherlock opened the one that instructed him to open it at that moment. Inside, there was a folded up photo copy of a pet adoption certificate.

"John had told me about the dog you had used on a case with him and Mary, so I thought it might be useful—" Molly trailed off. "Toby will get along with him. I brought him with me to make sure."

"Molly, darling, this is wonderful. When can we get him?" Sherlock grinned.

"We can pick him up the day after Christmas," Molly laughed. "And, really, don't open those envelopes until you need them at those exact moments, mister."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sherlock chuckled. "Merry Christmas, Molly Holmes."

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock. I love you," Molly smiled before looking down at her tummy. "And mummy and daddy love you too."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I hope this was enjoyable! Please don't hesitate to leave me comments, reviews, concerns xD


	30. Gender Reveal

**Author's Note:** I apologize for not writing a chapter yesterday. I was sick with the flu and while I still kinda feel like crap, I managed to churn this one out. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Eighteen weeks pregnant. It had been six weeks since Christmas and Molly had an appointment during her lunch break. Sherlock had just arrived at Bart's to attend the appointment with her. Today they would find out the gender of their baby.

There they were, Molly's growing belly having the cold gel squeezed onto it. Sherlock held her hand and gave her a dazzling smile that lit up the room. She was happy to see him so excited over their unborn child.

"It won't be long before you start to feel your baby's movements," the doctor smiled as she proceeded to find out the gender. "Ah, here we are…oh my goodness, congratulations! You're having twins!" The doctor scanned her stomach as Molly and Sherlock looked up at the screen. His lips were pressed into her hair as they looked on.

"Wait twins?" Molly questioned with a laugh. Tears were welling up in her eyes. Sherlock had lifted his head, shocked at the reveal.

"Oh yes, one boy and one girl; fraternal," the doctor told them with a smile. "I know this is a bit of a surprise but it's not unheard of to not find out until you're this far along." The doctor slipped out to give them a moment after wiping the gel off of Molly's stomach.

"It's never twins," Molly teased her husband, eliciting a chuckle from him.

"In this case, it is," Sherlock grinned. He took in the sight of Molly, a healthy glow emanating from her. _She's so beautiful_ , he thought.

"I can just imagine tiny versions of ourselves running around," Molly giggled through her tears.

"Mm, hopefully they take more after you," Sherlock told her.

"They'll take after both of us," Molly smiled. "Two more Holmes in London."

"Lestrade may retire," Sherlock laughed.

"I really want chips," Molly spoke randomly, her craving becoming more demanding.

"I'll take you to the shop on Marylebone Road for lunch," Sherlock offered, kissing her cheek.

"Extra potions? You're too sweet," Molly told him.

* * *

They were sitting at a booth in the chip shop discussing baby names and the like. And, as juvenile as it was, they were practically playing footsy beneath the table. The extra potions of chips had done well to keep the hunger satisfied for Molly and the babies. _I'm eating for three_ , she thought in amusement.

"I still say you should take an early maternity leave," Sherlock remarked, popping another chip into his mouth.

"Sherlock, I'm fine," Molly laughed. "I know you worry, but I'm not doing that until I'm eight months in. Besides, who would you work with in the morgue or the lab? You don't like anybody else."

"You shouldn't be standing on your feet all day. I'll work with a less competent pathologist if I have to," Sherlock insisted. "Look, Molly, I know I'm being obnoxiously overbearing but I just want you and our children to be well."

"I know, love, I understand. You mean well. How about this? Give me a bit longer and I'll meet you in the middle. How about at six months in?" Molly suggested. "Will that make you feel better?"

"Alright," Sherlock agreed, giving a small smile.

* * *

Molly went straight to the bedroom after coming home from work. Sherlock was typing away on his laptop at the desk in the sitting room. She re-emerged in her light grey maternity nightdress, a little annoyed she could no longer wear Sherlock's dress shirts. _At least it's cute_ , Molly told herself. She proceeded to lie down on the sofa, elevating her swollen ankles and feet on top of a throw pillow.

Sherlock was by her side in a flash, taking her feet in his hands and massaging them gently.

"How was the case?" Molly asked, her eyes closed at the relief she felt from her husband's attentiveness.

"Hardly worth my time," Sherlock informed her. "A case that started out as a seven turned out to be a three."

"That's unfortunate," Molly told him.

"Mm, quite," Sherlock agreed.

"Oh," Molly gasped, sitting up. She brought Sherlock's hand to her belly. "I think I felt them kick." Her smile lit up her eyes. Sure enough, another flutter was sent towards where their hands were positioned.

"Incredible," Sherlock breathed out. He almost neared buffering mode but another round of kicks kept him alert. It seemed that the pregnancy was truly hitting him now. "That's our children." He was in awe. "We made them. Together."

"Yes, that's typically how it works, Sherlock," Molly laughed.

* * *

The following weekend, everyone was once again invited over to Baker Street to find out the gender, not knowing there's more than one baby. Molly had baked a strawberry cake and painted blue frosting over it. Everyone's initial reaction would be that it was a boy until someone cut into it.

"So, it's a boy is it?" John asked seeing the cake. Neither Molly or Sherlock said a word but exchanged knowing smiles.

"Who would like to do the honors?" Molly asked, motioning her hands toward the knife to cut the cake. Mrs. Holmes volunteered, excited as can be. Mycroft, Mr. Holmes, John, Rosie, Mrs. Hudson and Greg looked on as the cake was sliced to reveal the color pink beneath the blue frosting.

"Ha, it's twins," John laughed. "That's what you get for telling me that it's never twins." Everyone laughed at the remark.

"Oh, how lovely!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. "Two babies, you must be so thrilled!"

"Two pretty babies?" Rosie asked, looking up at her father.

"Your Aunt Molly and Uncle Sherlock are having a boy AND a girl," John told her. Rosie opened her mouth, forming an 'O' shape, in excitement.

"Oh, dear," Mycroft groaned. "Baker Street is in trouble." Greg nodded in agreement.

"Now, Mycroft," Mr. Holmes warned.

"Have some cake and be quiet," Sherlock told his brother.

"Sorry, brother mine, not today," Mycroft said haughtily.

"You two come up with any names yet?" Greg asked, sticking a forkful of cake in his mouth.

"Actually, yes," Molly smiled. "Our girl is going to be named Charlotte Mary-Margaret Holmes." She looked to Sherlock.

"Our boy is going to be named Victor Hamish Holmes," Sherlock smirked at his best friend. The fact they had given their children names to reflect John, Mary and Victor Trevor brought tears to almost everyone's eyes.

"Are you deliberately attempting to make us cry?" Mrs. Holmes joked.

"Yes, well, if everyone could just cheer up a bit," Sherlock chuckled, bringing about laughter from everyone in the flat. He couldn't help but feel blessed for the beautiful family he had helped form with his wife, whom he cherished very much. _Blessed_ , Sherlock thought. _Where on earth did that come from_?


	31. Open WhenYou Miss Me

"I feel as big as a house," Molly joked with her co-worker in the lab. At twenty six weeks pregnant, her belly had grown significantly because of the twins to the point where none of her clothing fit. She had to practically buy a whole new wardrobe. At least her lab coat still fit, as it was a bit big on her pre-baby body. Mycroft Holmes had strolled into the room, umbrella in hand.

"Ah, Molly, I was hoping to find you here," he told her.

"Mycroft? Is everything alright?" she asked with concern.

"Yes, well, you were supposed to meet me during your lunch break but since you neglected to do so, I thought I'd come to you," he reminded her.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot. Pregnancy brain," Molly laughed. "I'll start setting reminders. Why were we meeting again? Is it about Sherlock?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I am actually fond of you and just wanted to have lunch with my sister-in-law?" Mycroft asked with an exasperated sigh.

"How about tomorrow? I'll make sure to set a reminder," Molly offered.

"I'll hold you to it," Mycroft told her. "Oh, and could you please knock some sense into my brother? There is a case I have for him of the utmost importance but he won't take it."

"If it takes him out of London for more than one day while I'm pregnant, he won't do it," Molly explained. "He's very adamant about staying within the city. Trust me, I've tried to convince him. He's missing the chance on cases rated a ten because of it."

"That's very unlike him," Mycroft commented.

"Tell me about it. It's sweet how much he cares but he can't just put his career on hold because of it. It's very rare he gets a ten. I'm a bit worried, really," Molly ranted. Mycroft shifted uncomfortably at the topic of his brother's newfound domesticity.

"Yes, well, this is not really my area," he remarked, clearing his throat. "Well, I must get back. I do hope all is well with my niece and nephew."

* * *

"It's only three days, Sherlock," Molly insisted. "I'll be fine."

"Molly," Sherlock warned.

"Don't you 'Molly' me, William Sherlock Scott Holmes," she snapped. He winced at her tone and use of his full name. _Bloody hell, she sounds like my mother_ , he thought. Molly softened her voice. "Everyone knows you are dying to take this case. It's a ten!" She walked over to him and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before whispering in his ear, "Go solve a murder for me. I'll be here when you get back."

"Alright," Sherlock conceded, not so secretly excited for the case. Molly returned a smile of her own before attempting to figure out what to eat for dinner. As she walked to the kitchen, she was in awe at the sight of Toby and their dog—an Irish setter that Sherlock did name Redbeard much to Mycroft's chagrin—curled up on the floor by Sherlock's chair.

"Oh, bugger it all!" Molly exclaimed in frustration. "How about we do take out?"

"Whatever you want is fine with me," Sherlock told her with a smile.

"I really want Thai, do you want Thai?" Molly asked.

"Sounds good," Sherlock replied.

* * *

The following morning, Sherlock and John set out for Manchester, leaving Rosie in Mrs. Hudson and Molly's care. By the time of their arrival, they directly went to the scene of the crime. The body had long been moved, stored away at the morgue. Sherlock scanned the flat, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"We have our suspect in custody, as he was found here with the victim. James Thurling is his name. He claims having no memory of committing the murder but it's quite obvious he did it," the officer explained.

"No," Sherlock remarked arrogantly. "The truth is rarely pure and never simple. Too easy. Mr. Thurling was framed."

"By whom, Mr. Holmes?" the officer asked.

"That's what I intend to find out," Sherlock answered curtly.

* * *

Later that night, Sherlock and John headed to their hotel rooms that Mycroft had accommodated for them. John had no trouble sleeping, whereas Sherlock did. There was a time when Sherlock could go days without sleep but he was so used to having Molly in his arms, he couldn't that night. His phone pinged, taking him out of his thoughts.

 **Keep it down; I can hear you thinking across England lol! MH**

Sherlock chuckled at that. She knew him way too well.

 **I'll try but I make no promises. SH**

 **Try to get some rest, darling. I love you. xx SH**

 **Same goes for you. I love you too, Sherlock. xxx MH**

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The next day, Molly was watching Rosie as it was her day off. Her goddaughter was very well behaved, which made things a bit easier, though she definitely had her mother's stubbornness. Cartoons played on the telly while Rosie drew in her notebook. Molly was making grilled cheese for lunch.

"Aunt Molly," Rosie said, tugging on the hem of her godmother's flowy maternity dress.

"Hmm? What is it, sweetie?" Molly asked. Rosie held up a drawing she did.

"I made this for you and Unca Sherlock," the little Watson told her. "See? There's you and Unca Sherlock and the babies." She showed Molly this as she pointed each of them out.

"Oh, it's beautiful, I love it," Molly exclaimed, scooping the grilled cheeses onto a plate. "Why don't you pick a magnet from the fridge and hang it up there?"

"Okay," Rosie shouted with glee, jumping excitedly. The two of them sat at the kitchen table eating grilled cheese sandwiches when Sherlock texted.

 **Good afternoon, beautiful. SH**

 **Well hello there, stranger lol. How's the case going? MH**

 **Exceptionally well. I'll give you the whole story when I come home. SH**

 **I'll be looking forward to it.** **MH**

 **John wants to know how Rosie is. SH**

 **She's fine. We're eating grilled cheese together. MH**

 **I miss you. SH**

 **Oh, I miss you too. You'll be home in less than 48 hours. MH**

 **Not soon enough. SH**

 **Don't worry, I'll give you a proper snogging session when you get back ;) MH**

 **Really not soon enough. SH**

 **Lol! MH**

 **Must dash; I found a new lead. SH**

 **Okay, love you. MH**

 **Love you too, Molly. SH**

"You okay, Aunt Molly?" Rosie asked, her head cocked to the side with concern. Molly was confused for a moment until her goddaughter got up from her seat to wipe her tears away.

"Yes, honey, I'm fine, thank you," Molly told her softly. _Damn hormones_ , Molly cursed.

"You miss Unca Sherlock?" Rosie questioned.

"Of course I do," Molly smiled.

"Well, that's okay. I miss daddy so we can miss them together," Rosie offered sweetly. Molly's heart absolutely melted.

* * *

"James Thurling had been drugged the night of the murder and left by the victim's body in order to be framed. He did not know the victim but the two of them did have a connection: the murderer," Sherlock explained. "Now, there are two possible suspects in this case, as it is a familial issue."

"James' father and the victim's father?" the officer guessed.

"Trick statement," Sherlock smirked. "The victim, Oliver Smith, and James Thurling share the same father, unknown to them. James' mother found out about an old affair the father had years ago."

"So, she just killed the man?" John asked.

"Not just Oliver, but you'll find the father somewhere at the bottom of River Irwell. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Sherlock said, pleased with himself yet again. "Let's go find our murderer."

* * *

It was evening and all was calm on Baker Street…well except for the impromptu dance party Molly and Rosie were having. The giggles that erupted from the little girl caught Mrs. Hudson's attention, causing the landlady to sneak herself up the stairs to 221B. She looked on as Molly took Rosie's arm and had her spin around. When the song ended, Molly turned towards the sofa to sit down for a rest only to notice Mrs. Hudson in the doorway, causing her to jump.

"Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you, dear," Mrs. Hudson told her.

"Oh, you're alright," Molly laughed. Rosie climbed up onto the sofa patting the cushion next to her.

"Nana, Aunt Molly, sit with me," she said. They did as their goddaughter requested.

"You know, dear, you're going to be a wonderful mother," Mrs. Hudson told Molly.

"You really think so?" Molly asked.

"Oh, there's no doubt," Mrs. Hudson said. "And Sherlock will be a good father, I just know it. If you had asked me years ago, I'd have said he needed much more growing up to do." She laughed at this. "But I see it in his eyes, you know. They light up whenever he looks at you or when the twins are brought up in conversation."

"They do, don't they?" Molly smiled, thinking back on all the ways he's ever looked at her even before the pregnancy.

* * *

Sherlock was restless again. Yes, the case was closed and he'd be going home tomorrow but he still missed his wife. Digging through the small bag he brought with him, he found just what he was looking for. An envelope that said _Open When…You Miss Me_. So, he opened it, revealing a letter, a couple of candid photos of herself she printed off from his phone as well as photos of the two of them. He smiled down at them as he looked through them. He then began to read the letter.

 _Hello, my love. If you're reading this, you're probably away on a case and missing me. I miss you too. Either that or your curiosity got the best of you. Whichever reason, I do hope you take my words to heart. I love you, I love you, I love you. I cannot express it enough. I have loved you all these years and I will continue to love you forever. I know what you're thinking in that forever isn't a real span of time, but I assure you, it is. Trust me. Do you remember the first day we met? You probably do with that fancy mind palace of yours. It was just shy of a year before you met John. I was the new pathologist and you just about gave me a fright on my first day, bursting into the morgue just before my first autopsy. I was warned about you from the other staff, but you know what I thought? I thought that just because he's a little different from everyone else, doesn't make him an awful person. He just needs someone who understands and loves him for who he is. Little did I realize, I would be that person. I was the girl people whispered about calling me strange for my morbid humor and passion for pathology. I knew exactly how it felt to be the outcast. The moment I looked into your eyes for the first time, after stumbling over my words, I saw the good in you. I knew you weren't bad like the reputation you were given. Maybe a little lost and very clever, but never bad. They would say you weren't capable of love. I said they were wrong. There I go, rambling on again. Just know that when you come home from wherever you are, I'll be here waiting for you to wrap me up in your arms and I can snog you senselessly. It's quite funny when I can render you speechless; a feat that seemed impossible at one time. Stay safe, my love. Come home to me. To us. I love you._

 _Molly xxx_

Sherlock was not a man who cried but his eyes welled up as he read the loving words Molly had written him. There was a lip print placed over her name at the bottom of the letter in that red lipstick she loved to wear as well as the faint scent of her favorite perfume that seeped into the paper's fibers. He slept well that night, keeping the letter beside him, breathing in her familiar scent.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Over 2000 words holy wow lol that's the longest chapter I've written for any fic ever! I hope y'all enjoyed this installment! :)


	32. Welcome to the World

John and Sherlock made their way up to 221B early the following morning, completely spent from their trip to Manchester. They walked in to find Molly asleep on the sofa, elbow resting on the arm and her hand propped under her chin. Rosie rested her head gingerly atop her godmother's protruding belly. Sherlock efficiently retrieved his goddaughter without waking either of them up and handed her over to John. She shifted in her father's arms before John bid Sherlock adieu.

"Mm, Sherlock?" Molly yawned. He turned to face his wife and went to sit next to her on the sofa. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Sherlock replied softly, peppering her face with kisses before placing a gentle one against her tummy. "Now about that snogging session you promised." He winked at her playfully before she pulled him to her by the lapels of his suit jacket, kissing him soundly. Sherlock thought the little things they told each other just through affection alone was an amazing kind of body language that can never be learned unless one was truly in love. Their lips and tongues connecting spoke volumes. _I missed you. I love you. You are my everything. God, I love you so much it hurts._ As they broke apart, Sherlock nuzzled his nose against hers affectionately. Their hearts were beating in rapid succession as one.

"Tell me about the case," Molly smiled. So, that's exactly what he did, speaking enthusiastically. She loved hearing about the cases she wasn't a part of. He enjoyed the morbid jokes she'd accidentally blurt during his narrative, laughing together. Then he told her that on his last night there, he opened the envelope because he was missing her. They talked about the day they first met as Sherlock told her he had no idea her first thoughts about him were kind as opposed to others.

"You've always believed in me, since the very first day," Sherlock stated. "Thank you. I know I wasn't pleasant to work with."

"You were always the most exciting part of my day," Molly admitted.

"Were?" Sherlock asked teasingly.

"You still are," Molly told him, lacing her fingers with his.

* * *

It was a lovely day in London, as it was the month of May. Molly had taken her maternity leave a week after Sherlock had gotten back from the Manchester case last month. He was planning out an experiment in his notebook when Molly groaned with pain. He dropped everything and practically leapt to her side.

"Molly? Are you okay? What is it? Do I need to call an ambulance?" Sherlock asked frantically.

"I'm fine," Molly said, sucking in a breath. "They're just Braxton Hicks contractions; first ones I've felt. It'll pass." Sherlock let out his breath in relief and kissed the tip of her nose. She scrunched it up in a way he found to be adorable. Molly was thirty two weeks pregnant at this point. He held her until the practice contractions passed, stroking her hair and leaving small kisses on the top of her head.

"My darling Molly," he whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too," she breathed out.

* * *

During weeks thirty three and thirty four, Sherlock kept himself busy. They were so close now. He had a project to work on and once Sherlock Holmes set his mind on it, there was no slowing him down. John's old room was slowly coming together as the twins' nursery. Of course, they had already repainted the walls and built the two cribs together not long after finding out about having twins, but Sherlock was working on the last of it. He wanted to surprise her with the finishing touches.

So, there he sat on the floor in the twins' room, lost in thought, his hands pressed together against his lips. His mind was racing, soon turning into panic. _What if I'm rubbish as a father? I don't ever want to let them down…let her down._

"Sherlock?" Molly's voice brought him out of his spiraling thoughts. She stood in the doorway at the top of the stairs leading to the nursery. Even though he attempted to hide it, Molly saw the worry in his eyes. "Love, what's wrong?" He gave her a small smile before standing up. She was so concerned about Sherlock, she didn't notice the finished room at first. He watched as her eyes drank in every detail.

"Oh, Sherlock, you did all this? It's lovely," Molly spoke, her voice cracking as tears rolled down her cheeks. She threw her arms around him in a warm embrace, placing quick, affectionate kisses against his neck. "You're such a wonderful husband and you'll be an amazing father…you already are." His heart swelled with emotion at those words.

"You really think so?" he asked.

"Of course, you silly man," she laughed. "I know you're probably sending yourself into a tizzy, but you should know that you have nothing to worry about. We're in this together. Always."

"Always," he replied, holding her as close as possible.

* * *

Later that night, Molly found herself having a bout of insomnia. Though Sherlock was known to skip sleeping some nights, he would still hold her as she slept. Tonight, they were in the same boat.

"Can't sleep?" Sherlock asked, running his fingers down her arm.

"Afraid not," Molly sighed, sitting up. After a few moments of silence, she slid off of the bed. "Might as well do something fun." Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed. He climbed out of bed, standing by Molly's side.

"Mm, like what?" He leaned in to kiss her before she playfully turned away from him so that he'd miss.

"Cheeky," Molly teased.

"It was worth a try," Sherlock shrugged at his failure.

"There's an envelope for that," Molly remarked with a wink. Sherlock chuckled at that but focused on the original conversation.

"So what did you have in mind, then?" he asked.

"Cluedo," Molly answered, a determination in her eyes. She and Sherlock were both extremely competitive when it came to the murder mystery game.

Twenty minutes later, a similar argument to that of John and Sherlock's came up.

"It was obviously the victim," he insisted.

"Sherlock, that's not possible," Molly argued. "Not unless the victim faked his death…ohhhh." Sherlock wore a smug smirk on his face. "Okay, that kind of thing can happen in real life but it's still not possible for a board game."

"Oh, then what do you propose?" Sherlock asked.

"I say it was Colonel Mustard in the billiard room with the rope," she told him confidently. He took the cards from the envelope that sat in the middle of the board.

"Nope," Sherlock smirked, popping the 'p.'

"You're so lying, let me see that," Molly laughed, taking the cards from his hand. "I was right! I knew it! Admit defeat, Mr. Holmes." She reached for the deerstalker and placed it on her head, eliciting a hearty laugh from her husband.

"Looks much better on you, Mrs. Holmes," Sherlock told her before pressing his lips to hers.

* * *

Week thirty six came around and Molly woke up with pelvic pain and the need for a nice warm bubble bath, which she had voiced to her husband. He took no time in drawing her bath for her. She waddled into the bathroom in her dressing gown. Sherlock found her waddling to be cute. There was simply no other word for it. He helped her into the tub and stayed by her side comforting her.

"Still worried?" Molly asked him, swishing the bubbles around with her fingers.

"A bit," Sherlock admitted.

"Open it," Molly told him. "The pink one." Sherlock knew she was referring to the envelopes. He got up to retrieve the envelope that said _Open When…You Need To Know How Much I Love You_. He walked back into the bathroom, returning to where he sat on the floor by the bathtub. Molly gently twisted her fingers through his hair as he opened and read the letter.

 _Dearest Sherlock, if you're reading this, you probably needed a bit of a boost to brighten your point of view. You are a wonderful, loving husband and I couldn't be happier. You do, you know. You make me happy, Sherlock, so very very happy. There was a bittersweet time in my life where I thought we would never have this…the day you took me crime solving with you. We both thought we wouldn't have this life together. I knew how you felt from the way you acted around me that day. Then our parting in the stairwell happened and I thought we had been handed a cruel twist of fate as bitter cold as the London air. I am so happy we were wrong. Look at what we have now. We have promised ourselves to one another for the rest of our lives and we're starting a family of our own. You'll be a brilliant father. I can just see you teaching our little one deductive reasoning and the like. You've been taking such good care of me and our bundle of joy. Scratch what I said two sentences ago. You ARE an amazing father. Contrary to popular belief, fatherhood doesn't start when the baby is born, but when the pregnancy is confirmed positive. We're not going to be parents…we ARE parents. You are the love of my life, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, and I wouldn't want anyone else to be the father of my children. Our children._

 _Never should you doubt my love for you. I will always love you. I am so proud of you and I believe in you. You will never be alone again, my love, I can assure you of that. You're stuck with me. Not one day has or ever will be taken for granted. I love you for you; everything that you are. We love each other in a way I can't explain; a love so strong that nothing can tear us apart. Never. You will forever be my best friend._

 _Love, Molly xxx_

He kissed her. It was a kiss so fervent, so full of love that it brought them to joyous tears. Molly kissed the droplets from his cheeks and he wiped at hers gently with his thumbs.

"Do you understand now?" Molly spoke softly. Sherlock nodded, nuzzling his nose against her neck, whispering how much he loved her.

* * *

Three weeks later at two fifteen in the morning, it happened. Molly's water had broken. Sherlock was frantic, gathering the overnight bag and calling a cab. Mrs. Hudson woke to the commotion as he helped Molly down the stairs.

"Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked, stepping out of her flat.

"No time, Mrs. Hudson, the game is on!" Sherlock shouted as Molly half-heartedly laughed through the pain. Once they were in the cab, Sherlock texted John and Mycroft before putting his phone away to hold his wife's hand.

"Molly, breathe, you can do this," Sherlock encouraged.

"Sherlock," Molly snapped, "shut up." _Are all births like this_ , Sherlock thought to himself remembering when Mary had gone into labor with Rosie.

* * *

When it was time for Molly to push, she gripped Sherlock's hand tightly. He continued to encourage her despite her temporary frustration.

"Molly, you're doing beautifully, keep pushing," Sherlock continued.

"You did this to me," Molly accused through gritted teeth. Charlotte was born first. She struggled with Victor and her grip nearly broke Sherlock's hand. Eventually, it was over and Molly had successfully given birth to their two beautiful children. Her hair was matted to her face with sweat and she was catching her breath.

"Molly, you're so beautiful. You did wonderfully, darling," Sherlock told her with a smile.

"Sorry for snapping at you," Molly told him. He kissed her forehead. The babies were cleaned and brought over to them. Sherlock held Charlotte and Molly held Victor.

"We did this. We made them," Sherlock looked at the twins in awe. Gazing into their children's eyes, their hearts never felt fuller.

"They're beautiful," Molly cried.

* * *

Eventually, Sherlock went out to the waiting room to get John, Mycroft and a very awake Rosie to meet the new additions to the Holmes family. They went into the room where Molly held both babies in her arms, her smile bright as can be.

"Get over here, Mycroft, and meet your niece and nephew," Molly insisted. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Hello there, little ones," Mycroft greeted rather awkwardly. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him.

"Would you like to hold them?" Molly asked.

"Oh, I don't think I should," Mycroft began before changing his mind. He so very carefully balanced his niece and nephew in his arms like Molly showed him. John was getting a kick out of the awkwardness. He patted Sherlock on the back.

"I'm proud of you, Sherlock," John told him. "Look at this life you and Molly made together. I remember being so glad you got your head out of your arse long enough to pursue a relationship with her. And now look."

"Rosie would you like to see them?" Molly asked as Mycroft transferred the twins back to her. John, Sherlock and Rosie walked over to the hospital bed.

"Pretty babies," Rosie gasped with glee. She tentatively reached her hand out.

"Gently, Rosie," John told her. She softly stroked each baby's arm.

"Sherlock, tell him," Molly smiled.

"John," Sherlock began. "We would like for you to be godfather. Will you do it?"

"Will there be cake?" John asked jokingly. They all laughed together, even Mycroft. This was a moment that would forever be stored in Sherlock's mind palace.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I may have gone a bit OOC I don't know lol but I love this chapter. I hope y'all loved it too!


	33. Routine and Insecurities

"Oh, they're precious," Wanda Holmes gasped. "We have grandchildren, Timothy, aren't they beautiful?" Tears filled her eyes.

"They sure are," Mr. Holmes replied. "Hello there, we're your grandma and grandpa." He wiggled his fingers at them. The twins were in their lounger that resided in the sitting room. It was a lovely gift from Mycroft and Lady Smallwood. It had been a week since they were born. Sherlock and Molly had invited the Holmes to visit sooner but they insisted to wait after the first week to allow things to settle.

"You two are going to make wonderful parents," Mrs. Holmes told them.

"We certainly hope so," Sherlock responded, his arm wrapped around Molly's shoulders as they sat on the sofa. Just then, Charlotte began to cry.

"Oh, come here," Molly cooed as she picked her up into her arms. "Mummy's here. She needs to be fed, I'll be back." Molly sauntered off to the bedroom. Victor was lifted up into Mrs. Holmes's arms with Mr. Holmes smiling over her shoulder.

"Sherlock, we are so proud of you," Mr. Holmes stated. "You started a lovely family with Molly and you seem so much happier than you've ever been."

"John was right; it does complete me as a human being," Sherlock smirked at the memory. Years ago, Sherlock would have scoffed at the scene before him but now, he couldn't imagine living without Molly or the twins. Speaking of Molly, Sherlock stood up from the sofa. "Excuse me a moment." He kissed the top of his son's head before heading into the bedroom.

Molly was still feeding Charlotte when Sherlock popped in.

"Hey you," she greeted him. Sherlock sat himself next to her on their bed. He rubbed soft circles on the small of her back and kissed her temple. "What's all this about?"

"Well, things have been a bit…hectic lately and I want to make sure you're alright," Sherlock told her.

"Oh, I'm fine," Molly told him.

"It's okay if you're not. I know how you are, Molly. You try to put up the happy pretense because you're always one to be there for everyone else at a moment's notice regardless of what you feel. It's okay to…to need me," Sherlock spoke rapidly.

"Sherlock, where's this coming from?" Molly asked.

"Well, I've read up on postpartum depression and I was worried you may be struggling in silence and you know I'm here for you, right?" Sherlock continued. "For you, for our children, always." Molly's heart melted. Charlotte finished feeding and Molly just settled her into her arms more comfortably.

"My sweet husband," Molly smiled, "I know you are. I promise you, I'm truly happy; exhausted, but happy." She let out a half-hearted laugh.

"Would you tell me if you were going through it? Say, if it hit you next week? Because I read that it sometimes comes around as late as two to three weeks after birthing and—" Sherlock was stopped by Molly's index finger placed against his lips.

"I promise I will tell you if I'm going through it," Molly told him. "Thank you." She gave him a quick, soft kiss on his lips. "I love you."

"Mm, I love you too, Molly," Sherlock returned, his tone gentle and loving. "So much."

They walked back out into the sitting room to find Sherlock's parents fawning over Victor who was now settled in Mr. Holmes's arms. Molly held Charlotte out to Mrs. Holmes, offering to let her hold her granddaughter now that she'd been fed.

"Tell me, what are the two of you going to do when they need separate rooms?" Wanda asked. Molly opened her mouth but closed it again, realizing they never discussed such an important topic. But, once again, Sherlock took her by surprise.

"I've actually figured that out but I haven't talked with Molly about it yet," Sherlock explained. Molly raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to elaborate. He took note of her expression, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm listening," Molly encouraged him.

"Well, you see, I thought maybe Baker Street would just be used for casework and we'd find a bigger flat here in the city or a house in the country, say in Surrey," Sherlock rambled. "Perhaps a cottage or—" He trailed off, having not completely prepared himself for this conversation. For once, he couldn't figure out what was going through her mind.

"Sounds perfect," Molly finally spoke up with a smile.

"Um, which part?" Sherlock asked.

"A cottage in Surrey sounds lovely," Molly told him, hardly believing she was actually having this conversation with Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

Another two months pass and everything has settled into a routine. On nights that Sherlock doesn't sleep, he takes care of the 3am feedings, using the bottles of Molly's breast milk stored in the fridge. He had convinced her to let him do this as he pointed out the fact that she needs the rest more than he does.

"You've done all the work, after all," Sherlock had told her. "You carried them to full term and had many restless nights. We're a team, Molly, and I will take on as much as I possibly can to share all responsibilities with you." That was when she decided to start leaving bottles of her milk in the fridge for the nights he fed them.

So there he was at three forty five in the morning, occupying his chair in the sitting room, feeding Victor who was propped in his arms. Molly stepped out of their bedroom, wearing his aubergine dress shirt. He remembered how happy she was earlier that day to find she could fit into it again. She wasn't back to her pre-baby body yet, nor was she really too worried about it, but Sherlock loved the adorable plumpness she maintained.

"Hey," Molly said quietly, sitting herself in the chair opposite her husband's.

"Couldn't sleep?" Sherlock questioned.

"Not really," Molly replied, brushing her fingers through her hair.

"Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?" Sherlock asked her with a smile and a wink. Molly's heart leapt. She was beyond believing such shallow things, but deep down inside, she was afraid that Sherlock would no longer find her attractive. Molly knew it sounded stupid but it wasn't unheard of in marriages. Everything shifted and changed once children were in the picture. _But this is Sherlock_ , she told herself. _He loves you more than life itself_.

"Possibly, but I don't mind hearing it again," Molly blushed.

"You've been worrying," Sherlock said matter-of-factly. _Of course, he's noticed that_ , Molly thought. "Why?"

"I don't know why," Molly admitted sheepishly. "I guess because it's not exactly rare for the attraction to wear off after the fact." Sherlock stood after Victor was done being fed, as their son had fallen back asleep.

"Stay right there while I put him back to bed," Sherlock told her. He disappeared to the nursery. Molly waited just as he requested, a bit nervous. She didn't notice him come back into the sitting room until his lips were suddenly everywhere; on her forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks, lips. He ventured to her jaw, ear, neck and perfectly plump belly, kissing her softly. Sherlock lifted her into his arms and carried her into their bedroom where he made sure to gently show her just how much he truly loved her.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hey, I finally got this chapter up lol! Sorry for the delay, this sickness has been kicking my ass all week. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	34. Happy Anniversary!

Another month passed and fall had come around again. Lives were adjusting back to normal. Sherlock began taking cases again, though only ones he could solve from the comfort of the flat. Molly had gone back to work last month, a bit worried about not being there to help Sherlock.

"Okay, there are bottles in the fridge and sticky note reminders all around the flat. Oh, and—" Molly was cut off.

"Molly, it'll be fine, I promise," Sherlock assured her. "They'll be okay, I'll be okay, really."

"I know, sorry. I just haven't been away from them yet and we're a team, like you said," Molly explained.

"Exactly. We're a team. I'll stay home with them and you return to work and show those incompetents a thing or two," Sherlock laughed.

"What would I do without you?" Molly laughed in return. "Well, if you need anything, anything at all, call me, okay?"

"Okay," Sherlock agreed, kissing his wife out of the door playfully. "Now go on then, wouldn't want to be late. I love you."

"I love you, too," Molly replied.

That conversation had happened in August. It was mid-September and Molly's mind had been so bogged down that she completely forgot. A box was set down in front of her with two simple words written on it: _wear me_. She looked up at Sherlock in confusion.

"Happy Anniversary," he smirked, kissing her cheek. The twins were sound asleep in their lounger, as well as Toby and Redbeard who had a fondness for Charlotte and Victor. Sometimes they'd rub their noses against their feet, eliciting giggles from them. Molly had taken a video of it once.

"Oh no, I completely forgot, I'm so sorry. That's very unlike me," Molly cried. _Ugh stupid everlasting hormones_ , she complained inwardly. "I feel so rubbish now."

"Molly, please don't. You've been working so hard. Please open the box," Sherlock encouraged. She did as he asked, lifting the lid to reveal a pair of simple blue diamond stud earrings that matched her engagement ring and Sherlock's eyes.

"They're beautiful. Thank you. Sherlock, you didn't have to do this," Molly told him.

"But I wanted to," he stated. "There's more though."

"More?" Molly asked.

"You can come in now," Sherlock announced loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to not wake the twins. John and Rosie came in with knowing smiles.

"Alright, Rosie, you know what to do," John told her. She went to grab Molly's hand.

"Come on, Aunt Molly, time to get ready," Rosie urged her, pulling at her godmother's arm excitedly. Molly allowed herself to be dragged off into the bedroom, no idea what was happening. Sherlock chuckled at the sight.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" John asked his best friend.

"Yep," Sherlock replied, popping the 'p.'

* * *

Meanwhile, in the room, Molly had sat down on the bed as Rosie went through Molly's clothes and set out two dresses just as she was instructed.

"Rosie," Molly began, "what's happening?"

"Unca Sherlock wants to take you on a date," Rosie giggled. Two yellow dresses were laid out, a plain simple cotton dress and a spaghetti strap dress adorned with buttons and lace.

"Only yellow dresses?" Molly asked, knowing that Rosie knew her favorite color was yellow.

"Mhm," Rosie confirmed. "Unca Sherlock thinks you look pretty in yellow." She sang the word pretty.

"Alright then," Molly smiled. "I pick that one." She pointed at the one with lace embellishment. Rosie slapped her hands over her eyes to let Molly change. When she opened them again, her godmother was sliding on a pair of black flats. "Well, what do you think?" Molly spun around.

"Very pretty, Aunt Molly," Rosie stated, clapping her hands.

"There's just one last thing. Think you could sneak me across into the bathroom?" Molly asked.

"Daddy," Rosie called out as she exited the bedroom. "Make sure Unca Sherlock doesn't look. Aunt Molly needs to do her hair in the bathroom." John nodded as Rosie disappeared into the bedroom. She took Molly's hand and ducked her head out, glaring at Sherlock. "No peeking, Unca Sherlock." Molly was successfully ushered into the bathroom without being seen by her husband.

Molly heated up her curling wand, and loosely curled her hair. She put it up in a half up, half down braided style before putting on the finishing touch: a pastel yellow bow attached to the intersection of the braids. Rosie then snuck out to grab the earrings and brought them back to Molly.

"Are you ready?" Rosie asked.

"Ready," Molly confirmed. Rosie stepped out first.

"Aunt Molly is ready!" she exclaimed, capturing Sherlock's attention. Molly stepped out hesitantly but after a moment, moved forward with more confidence. She watched as her husband's eyes lit up and a smile spread across his face. He walked towards her, took her hands in his and kissed the back of each one.

"Gorgeous," Sherlock told her.

"Bring her back home by ten o'clock, sharp," Rosie demanded playfully, causing everyone to laugh.

"Don't worry, I've got a list Sherlock gave me of feeding times and such. And, yes, I will call but only if an emergency arises," John told Molly.

"Shall we?" Sherlock asked, offering his arm.

"We shall," Molly replied, looping her arm through his.

* * *

It's a good thing Molly wore sensible shoes.

"So, where to?" she asked as they got in the cab.

"I thought I'd take you dancing, followed by dinner at Angelo's." Sherlock smiled.

"Sounds lovely," Molly told him.

And dancing, they did. He took her to one of those much classier social lounges. They had a live band performing. He would twirl her around and dip her during the more upbeat songs. He held her close and whispered sweet nothings in her ear during the slow songs. He'd kiss her as if they were the only two people in the room.

Before heading to Angelo's, Molly requested to call John just to check up on everything, as it was the first time they were both away from the twins.

"Everything is perfectly fine, Molly," John assured her. "Rosie's attempting to read them a bedtime story. I have a photo if you'd like me to send it."

"Oh, please do," Molly told him before they ended the call. Her phone pinged and a picture of Rosie in the nursery, sitting between the two cribs with a picture book in hand, appeared on the screen. "Sherlock, look at this." He glanced at her phone, smiling as he saw their goddaughter attempting to read the twins to sleep.

They ate their dinner, conversing with one another and inserted the occasional flirty remark throughout. The whole night was very reminiscent of the first few dates they had together in the early stages of their relationship. The novelty of it all never seemed to wear out for them. As they exited the restaurant, Sherlock began to guide her towards Westminster Bridge Road.

"Where are you taking me now?" Molly laughed.

"It's a surprise," Sherlock winked. They walked past The London Eye and he led her to Jubilee Gardens. He walked her over to a specific spot in the park and turned to face her. "This is where I proposed to you; this exact spot. It was the best decision I ever made."

"Sherlock," Molly whispered, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Having you agree to marry me was a happy surprise. At the time, I was still unsure as to why you loved me. I had felt unworthy of you. No longer do I feel that way, as you have shown me countless times that I truly deserve your love. Thank you for saying yes, Molly. Thank you for never giving up on me," Sherlock finished.

Molly grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling him down for a passionate kiss. They held on to each other as if their lives depended on it.

* * *

They returned home to find Rosie asleep on the sofa and John sitting in his usual chair. The twins were asleep and a low fire was burning in the fireplace.

"Thanks for watching them, John," Sherlock told him.

"Oh, they were no trouble. Glad to give you two a night out," John smiled. "I need to get my little one home and in bed." He stood up giving both Sherlock and Molly a hug. He scooped Rosie up in his arms.

"Lestrade has asked me on a case but it would require leaving. Think you could scope it out? Mrs. Hudson or I can watch Rosie," Sherlock informed him.

"Let me guess, you want to see the scene via Skype?" John asked.

"Affirmative," Sherlock smirked.

"Oh, alright then," John agreed.

"I'll text you the time and place. Mycroft will have a ride available for you," Sherlock told him.

"Right then. Goodnight," John waved before walking out the door. Sherlock took a seat in his chair.

"Come here," he invited. She curled herself onto his lap as Sherlock pulled out an envelope from inside his jacket. It had the words, _Open When…It's Our Anniversary_ , written on it in Sherlock's hand. Molly looked down at the envelope he handed her and looked up at him with a smile.

"What's this?" she asked.

"I thought you should have at least one letter from me," Sherlock smiled. "Open it." Molly peeled open the envelope and unfolded the letter.

 _My Darling Molly, happy anniversary. I thought I should attempt to write you as you have given me so many lovely notes. There is something much more heartfelt about the written word then that of the spoken. We have been married an entire year and have been together for a total of exactly one year and eight months. You and I have known each other for nearly ten years now. In all of that time, I fell in love with you. I fell hard. Harder than the day you helped me fake my death. Probably wasn't best to mention that. Oh well, this is written in ink. Each and every day, I fall even more in love with you. Every morning we wake up together, every word conversed, every night spent making love to you. You have made me whole, filling in the emptiness I once did not recognize I had. As my loving wife and mother of my children, you have made me the luckiest and happiest man alive. Aside from John, you are also my best friend. I feel I can tell you anything and you would never judge, never blink one time. You've always been my rock long before I acknowledged how deeply I felt for you. I hope you know you can always come to me no matter what. Anything you need, I'm here. I will always be here, Molly._

 _You always brighten my day, regardless of how dull it is, because you are pure sunshine. Hence why I always thought the color yellow was very becoming on you. You are the love of my life. Molly Hooper. Molly Holmes. My Molly. We will grow old together and I will still think you are just as beautiful as the day we met. You have had my heart for a very long time and I intend for you to have it forever (yes, I used the word). You and our children are my heart. I love you. So much. So very much. Thank you for your unconditional love and this family we made together. I will always love you. Always. Never forget that. Promise?_

 _With love, William S. S. Holmes xx_

 _p.s. if you are reading this in my presence, I'm probably about to snog you._

Molly laughed when she suddenly found Sherlock's lips pressed against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, letter still in her right hand. Her left hand wound through his curls.

"Mm, Sherlock?" Molly asked in between kisses.

"Yes?" he replied, continuing to snog her senseless.

"I love you," Molly breathed out. His lips traveled to her neck and back up to meet her lips once more.

"I love you too," Sherlock whispered, leaning his forehead against hers.

They turned in for the night, or at least until one or both of the twins wake up for a feeding. Sherlock held Molly close to him, her head laying on his chest. They gave each other sweet kisses until they both fell asleep with the taste of each other on their lips.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I feel this story coming to a close soon. I have figured out how I want to end it and it'll probably be in the next chapter or two, depending. We shall see. I'm so happy y'all have been enjoying this story!


	35. Domestic Bliss Must Suit Them

**Author's Note:** Goodness, what a beautiful, amazing ride this story has been. This is the most popular fic I've ever had and the outpouring of reviews I've received on here, tumblr and AO3 have been overwhelming in such a positive way. I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you for reading, faving, following and reviewing. Y'all may not realize it, but your love for this fic has been extra motivational for me. You are the reason I fought through my sick days to get these chapters out and write on! Without any further ado, here is the last installment. Please enjoy and thank you again!

p.s. fan art has been made for this story and some have been added in earlier chapters on Ao3. The lovely artist, rebka18, plans to create one piece for each chapter, so keep checking back on Ao3 (SimplyShelbs16) for new art. :)

* * *

In a beautiful cottage located in Surrey, the hustle and bustle of a happy family could be heard and seen through the open windows. It was the fifth birthday of Charlotte and Victor Holmes. Friends and family gathered, fluttering about and conversing with one another. Mrs. Hudson was talking with Sherlock's parents, reminiscing. Rosie was playing with Charlotte and Victor in the sitting room while Sherlock helped Molly prepare food in the kitchen. John and Greg were discussing various cold cases and making small talk. Mycroft and Lady Smallwood, now Lady Holmes, were conversing among themselves whilst observing the activity around them.

Molly was tossing various veggies in the salad she was creating. The timer beeped on the oven.

"Sherlock, could you get those chips out?" Molly asked popping a cherry tomato that dropped on the counter into her mouth. He took the pot holder and slid the tray of homemade chips from the oven and set it on the stove to cool.

"Daddy, do you like my drawing?" Charlotte Holmes asked, her chocolate brown eyes shining. Her cinnamon brown hair was done up in a waterfall braid, courtesy of Molly.

"It's wonderful, sweetheart," Sherlock told her, lifting her into his arms. He brought her over to the fridge to pick out a magnet to hang it with. She smiled brightly at him, resembling a miniature version of Molly.

"Hey, Lottie, we're gonna play Cluedo, wanna join?" Victor called out. His ebony curls and piercing blue eyes resembled his father in every way. Both children were very intelligent for their age, which didn't come as much of a shock to anyone.

"Sorry daddy, I gotta go now. The game is on!" Charlotte exclaimed with a giggle. Sherlock set his daughter down to join in with her brother and cousin Rosie. It was then he heard a laugh slip from Molly's lips. He sauntered behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist as she tossed the salad.

"Is something funny?" Sherlock asked with a smirk, his lips next to her ear.

"She sounds like you," Molly smiled. He leaned down to press a few small kisses along the side of her neck, distracting her from the current task at hand. Little did they know, John Watson, best friend extraordinaire, snapped a photo at that very moment knowing they would appreciate having it later.

"Mm, I love you," Sherlock murmured against her skin. Molly leaned into him, relishing the feel of his lips. He always found a way to make her heart race and stomach flutter.

"I love you too, Sherlock," Molly sighed with contentment. "I'm gonna have to ask you to stop distracting me though. There'll be more time for this later." She turned her head to give him a wink. It wasn't long before everyone had gathered in the backyard garden that Molly grew over the years. There was a large picnic table set by the azaleas. There was a small pond with a trickling waterfall running into it that Toby avoided like the plague. Sherlock's beekeeping set up was on the other side of the garden near the small patch of sunflowers. It was a lovely summer day. The food was set out by Molly. The plates and silverware were brought out by Sherlock and Mycroft. There were fish and chips, vegetable salad, fruit salad and finger sandwiches. And of course the twins' birthday cake that Molly baked was still on the counter in the kitchen, only to be brought out until everyone finished eating lunch. A platter of ginger nuts sat next to it, much to Sherlock's delight.

They ate and conversed with one another in shared revelry. Everyone poked fun at one another and told stories of the days long ago. Greg and John were teasing Sherlock about finally joining the silver fox club, though he was nowhere near as grey as they were. He only had streaks of it here and there through his curls. It was surprising for Molly to find him insecure over it and so she had took it upon herself to remedy the situation. It was as if the conversation was just yesterday.

 **2 years ago**

 _"What is this?" Sherlock groaned, looking in their bathroom mirror._

 _"Looks like a little bit of grey. Don't worry about it," Molly replied nonchalantly._

 _"I'll have to dye it. I can't be seen as an old man solving crimes," Sherlock complained. She noted the insecurity he was attempting to keep hidden. He used whatever excuse he could to justify dying it._

 _"Sherlock," Molly crooned, bringing his hands down from his head, "I find it to be rather sexy." This caught him by surprise._

 _"R-really?" Sherlock smirked._

 _"Mhmm," Molly replied running her fingers through his hair and kissing him deeply. When the kiss broke, he looked back in the mirror at his mussed hair due to Molly's roaming fingers._

 _"S'pose it's not so bad," Sherlock agreed._

* * *

Another memory brought up by Molly was that of the first time Sherlock attempted teaching Charlotte and Victor the basics of observation. They were in London, eating at Angelo's together.

 **One year ago**

 _"Close your eyes," Sherlock instructed Victor. "Now, tell me how many people in this establishment are wearing hats."_

 _"The man with the ugly shirt, the short haired lady in the booth beside us and the man at the register, so three," Victor replied. He opened his eyes to see if he got it right and to play a joke, Sherlock put his deerstalker stuffed in his Belstaff on top of his head. "Hey, that's not fair! You weren't wearing that before!" Sherlock, Molly and Charlotte laughed and it wasn't long before Victor joined in._

 _"Alright, Charlotte, your turn," Sherlock smiled. Charlotte closed her eyes awaiting her assignment. "Who all here is wearing yellow?"_

 _"Ooh, Mummy, of course and the lady with the cane. Um, the man with the ugly Hawaiian shirt and the lady that just left," Charlotte answered._

 _"And how do you know the lady that just left was wearing yellow?" Sherlock asked._

 _"There's only one table behind us and that's where she was sitting. I felt the breeze of her passing by us as she walked out of the door. I noticed her when we first came in to sit down," Charlotte replied proudly._

 _"That's my girl," Sherlock complimented._

* * *

Back to the present, Charlotte and Victor were playfully bickering, causing everyone to laugh at how much they sounded like Sherlock and Molly arguing.

"Your room always looks like a tornado hit it," Charlotte told her brother.

"I prefer to call it an organized mess," Victor argued.

"It's chaos," Charlotte replied.

"It is chaos," Rosie agreed. The adults were very amused at the scene before them. Redbeard approached the table, nudging at anyone's legs to give up a piece of food. Toby was curled up in the grass, sleeping the day away. After lunch was finished, Molly brought out the cake and Sherlock lit the candles. He played 'Happy Birthday' on his violin as they all sang along.

"Alright, make a wish!" Molly exclaimed. Charlotte and Victor blew out their candles and everyone clapped. They ate their cake and insisted that Uncle Mycroft indulge himself for them.

"Who wants to play pirates?" Victor asked.

"I do," Rosie and Charlotte said simultaneously. This was a usual occurrence for them, bringing back childhood memories to Sherlock with a wistful smile. They each chose their personas, Looting Lottie, Red-Handed Rosie and Victor was Yellowbeard with the pirate dog, Redbeard.

Sherlock's mind drifted to another memory that had happened six months ago. He was undercover on a case of national importance and had been away for nearly two weeks. Molly and the twins watched the news every night to keep up and watch out for any sign of Sherlock breaking the case wide open. The night he did, he came home to find the news reports on his success playing on the telly and saw his wife and children doing a victory dance for him. When they saw him at the door, they all ran to him with hugs and kisses and 'I missed yous.'

* * *

"So will you two take the case?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock looked to John then to Molly.

"Go on and take it. Rosie can stay here. We'll be fine. Go have an adventure," Molly smiled.

"Alright, we'll take it," Sherlock agreed, John nodding by his side.

"Uh, when do we leave?" John asked.

"Tomorrow morning," Mycroft informed them.

* * *

After everyone left, Molly was washing dishes and Sherlock was drying them. His dress shirt sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. The kids were still playing pirates outside as Rosie was staying for the next three days. Molly blew soap bubbles out of her hand and into Sherlock's hair, laughing uncontrollably.

"Oh, now you've done it, Molly," Sherlock growled playfully, scooping up a handful of bubbles and spreading them on her right cheek. He spread a small clump on her nose and she scrunched it up the way he loved. It was soon an all-out bubble war. Eventually, Molly tried to run but he caught her hips in his hands, pulling her back to him as they laughed together. He began tickling her sides and she couldn't stop squirming in his arms.

"Sherlock," Molly laughed breathlessly, "stop. Please."

"Not until you surrender," Sherlock teased.

"Never," Molly giggled.

"Never?" Sherlock questioned. "We'll see about that." He stopped tickling her in favor of trailing his lips down her neck.

"Never," Molly gasped at the new change in strategy. Sherlock stopped kissing her abruptly, causing Molly to complain with an overdramatized whimper.

"Mm, are you sure? I believe surrendering would be best for both of us, don't you think?" Sherlock whispered.

"Yes, okay, I surrender," Molly conceded. Sherlock gave her a beautiful smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. It was a smile she loved and one only reserved for her. His lips went back to work before turning her around to press them upon her lips. He gathered her in his arms, holding her close. They swayed together in the kitchen though there wasn't any music; just the sounds of a calm summer evening and the children playing outside. It was all very domestic.

"So perfect," Sherlock muttered.

"Hmm?" Molly replied in a daze.

"Domestic bliss must suit us," Sherlock smiled before he dipped Molly and kissed her firmly. This was their life of being in love and they wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
